By: Cal Evans
To say “you make me happy”,
is to devalue the phrase.
A man does not say to the light,
“You help me see”.
You are my happy,
the center of my world.
You are my compass when I veer off course,
my beacon when I am wandering the desert,
my north star when I have lost my way.
You are my happy,
you make my life worthwhile.
Seeing you asleep,
in the pale morning light,
makes me know,
this day will turn out alright.
By: Cal Evans
Your eyes haunt my dreams.
Dark orbs of live,
flooding my life,
with a reason to be.
Your face haunts my thoughts.
Radient smile,
drives out the dark,
proof that I am loved.
Your love floods my soul.
Warm rays of light,
fever passion
till I can feel your heart.
I can feel your heart,
from a world away.
Smell your hair,
feel your touch,
hear our hearts beat as one.
So a part of me,
that I fail to see,
the line that ends me,
the line that starts we.
Friday morning with coffee
Reflect on the week past
Are you pleased that it’s at an end,
or sad that it can’t last?
BurmaShave
Thursday’s dawn breaks bright and new,
Your list is still too long.
Add to that list to share a laugh,
How can that be wrong?
BurmaShave
Wednesdays here and at the end,
the week will be half spent.
Take some time, enjoy the day
don’t wonder where it went.
BurmaShave
Tuesdays here, Mondays gone,
Time to get things done.
On this pretty day outside,
Make time to have some fun.
BurmaShave
Monday morning comes again,
coffee starts to flow.
Pour a smile upon your face,
As off to work we go.
Burmashave
By: Cal Evans
The sun slowly sinks
another day dies
I feel it plucked from my heart.
Another day gone
I can’t get it back
another day spent without you.
One less day with you
one less smile from you
one less moment snug in your arms
The sun slowly sinks
another day dies
and with it, a piece of my soul.
By: Cal Evans
A flower vendor passed me today,
as he walked by, he had this to say,
“Your beautiful lady, needs a rose,
Make sure of your love she daily knows.”
I sighed and whispered, no one could hear
“My beautiful lady is not here”,
“That she’s not with me makes my heart cry,
Inward I’m screaming, outward, I sigh.”
I bought the rose and I took it back,
Gently pressed it in a book of wax.
There it lies with all of the others,
a reminder of my heart’s druthers.