The easy days
The easy days and the good days.
On a cold days in the the grasp of the Bosnian Winter. I wrote your name in the snow.
Jennifer, Jennifer, my Jennifer. I love you.
I left Ann Arbor Michigan searching for new places and reasons to be alive.
I learn, standing in the mist of war. Love is all we have. Rich men have their money to make them forget and poor men must learn. The bruises and scars of love. They were the easy days and the good days, never forgotten.
Once, lady love came to me. Wearing her black dress showing me tempting long legs and the smile of a kind angel. I saw the landscape of perfect beauty and the dreamscape of dangerous journey where the willingness of kiss and embrace grow to unknown places where two people can fall into a deep graves with only heartbreak as the final ending.
I told her that night. If you stay and we paint our love into a canvas of sweet and wild nights, make burning kiss and embrace so sweet. Theses nights and days must be enhanced till we cannot love no-more. Is sweet release and opening our heart worth the journey and the ending?
Beautiful Jennifer danced to the radio and I watched her 19 year old body move with perfection to Bob Seger song” Night moves”. She fell to her knees and she laid her head into my lap. She told me, “Life is like a spinning wheel. Our guilty needs can hold regret, can teach us sweet night and desperate nights. Johnnie, isn’t it better to taste the sweet wine, kiss tender and willing skin and make the night. Alive and perfect.”
Tonight I saw you Jennifer in my sweet dreams. War is near and you are the only pain and fear I know. I painted my life black and cold. Dead brothers stole my kindness and I wanted a easy death. I left you alone in Ann Arbor and you never knew. How much I needed you.
Tonight fragment of your face dances in my head. I remember your words you whispered to me in the deepness of the long night where we try to raise our bodies to a paradise where love took us to private and honored place. You told me.
“Life is fair Johnnie. Lover’s love. Children play and wanderers wander. You told me once. I would break your heart and you were right. You told me often. I was was a wild fire and could not be controlled. Johnnie, please come back to me. I want the old Johnnie. Dead is dead and you are not.”
The Bosnian Winter kept me cold and I can accept my place. I knew the price of love and I would do the midnight dance with dear Jennifer again if I could. I know lady love rarely touches a drifting heart and soul. The free bird is left with the tracing of memories and make the Poet know. Love wasted leave a lot for the heart to carry.