Book Description
This is a special book about special people. People who have loved me, and whom I have loved. People who have brought me joy beyond measure, and sometimes incredible pain. People I have hurt, sometimes more than I can bear to think about. People who have hurt me, sometimes more than they know. Yet each of their gifts has been precious, each moment treasured, each face, each smile, each victory, each defeat woven into the fiber of my being. In retrospect, all of it is beautiful, because we cared so much. In essence, this book covers fifteen years of my life, and a handful of precious people who mean, and have meant everything to me. This book is written for them.With much love, d.s.


From the Publisher
font size=+1>Silence
Your silence hurts,
it weighs heavily,
dammit,
I cared so bloody much,
I hurt, I gave,
I cried,
I wanted,
needed,
hoped,
the scope
of it all
still overwhelms me
as I paint portraits
in the sky
seeing you
in my mind's eye
painting in
your presence
for a thousand years
to come,
wanting, wishing,
hoping,
seeing,
yet frightened
that
you'll
fade away...
and then
trembling,
I realize
once more...
there was no call
from you
today.



From the Inside Flap
This is a special book about special people.  People who have loved me, and whom I have loved.  People who have brought me joy beyond measure, and sometimes incredible pain.  People I have hurt, sometimes more than I can bear to think about.  People who have hurt me, sometimes more than they know.  Yet each of their gifts has been precious, each moment treasured, each face, each smile, each victory, each defeat woven into the fiber of my being.  In retrospect, all of it is beautiful, because we cared so much.  In essence, this book covers fifteen years of my life, and a handful of precious people who mean, and have meant everything to me.  This book is written for them.

With much love, d.s.


Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Fear Not--Farewell

Fear not,
   sweet love,
the hands
   of time,
for poems
   do not
      always
         rhyme,
fate runs
   its course
      and plays
         its tricks,
and in the
   last
      and final
         mix,
one wins
   it
      all
         and loses
            naught,
if love
   was good
      and battles
         fought
to their
   very
      final
         end,
good-bye
   sweet love,
farewell,
   my friend.

FROM THE PUBLISHER