Parker's Pad

Parker · 03-04-2012, 08:18 AM

Back in 1994, I was a baby dyke in the Navy, stationed in San Diego but dating a woman who was stationed up in Point Magu near Oxnard, CA. One weekend, I went up to visit her and she introduced me to a friend of hers - a man by the name of Shane who was a Wiccan, raised by a mother who was also Wiccan.

He was an incredibly tranquil man, soft spoken and so nice - he liked to sit outside and just "be" and because he knew I had an affinity for trees and forests, he encouraged me to sit with my back against a tree to commune with its energy.

So I sat on the ground with my back pressed up against a very large tree while the win gently blew all around me and, aside for the occasional bird chirping or animal rustling in a bush, everything was quiet. I was suddenly inspired to write the following.

I Cannot Hold Her

Her kiss
Is so sweet
So soft
So pure
Yet I cannot hold her
I hear her
Calling to me late at night
Past the moon and the stars
I hear her
Whispering to me softly
Through the trees on a warm spring day
Yet I cannot hold her
She is as gentle as a babbling brook
And as rough as the raging seas
She is as warm as I need her to be
And as cold as she wants to be
Yet I cannot hold her
I can hear my love
I can feel my love
Yet I cannot hold her
For my love is the wind
And I must let her go

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03-04-2012, 08:18 AM	#5
Parker Timed Out - Permanent How Do You Identify?: Butch. Lesbian. Dyke. Woman. Female. Preferred Pronoun?: She, of course! Relationship Status: Content Join Date: Oct 2011 Location: Small Town Life Posts: 2,880 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 7,858 Thanked 11,727 Times in 2,429 Posts Rep Power: 0	Back in 1994, I was a baby dyke in the Navy, stationed in San Diego but dating a woman who was stationed up in Point Magu near Oxnard, CA. One weekend, I went up to visit her and she introduced me to a friend of hers - a man by the name of Shane who was a Wiccan, raised by a mother who was also Wiccan. He was an incredibly tranquil man, soft spoken and so nice - he liked to sit outside and just "be" and because he knew I had an affinity for trees and forests, he encouraged me to sit with my back against a tree to commune with its energy. So I sat on the ground with my back pressed up against a very large tree while the win gently blew all around me and, aside for the occasional bird chirping or animal rustling in a bush, everything was quiet. I was suddenly inspired to write the following. I Cannot Hold Her Her kiss Is so sweet So soft So pure Yet I cannot hold her I hear her Calling to me late at night Past the moon and the stars I hear her Whispering to me softly Through the trees on a warm spring day Yet I cannot hold her She is as gentle as a babbling brook And as rough as the raging seas She is as warm as I need her to be And as cold as she wants to be Yet I cannot hold her I can hear my love I can feel my love Yet I cannot hold her For my love is the wind And I must let her go