Naked on Cashmere

I took her hand,and my heart beat fastas her warmth swallowed me up.A thousand times I’d run this trailbut not with her.Her eyes were all that young love should be,and they lit me upin every look.We lay in shooting skiesand freckled stars, andpromised our love would last forever—and so in our foreverit wouldthere in a castle atop of Blueberry Hill,with silver moon riversand sailing ships. xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com

I wrote madly in youth. I wrote because I had so much to see and so much to say. I had to share what I saw in the oranges of the desert nights, the way the drugs made my mind sting, and the pretty girls spun in the youth and dust -- this dream, everything we’d found,  it was ours, and would be forever-- it was easy then, the pen and the paper were two cans on a string to the stars, and I wrote what they told me in all the colors they said--but it’s different now, the purples aren’t as purple, the drugs don’t sting, and the girls dance far away as if ghosts/shadows of some abandoned townthe string to the stars has worn loose, and we the children look at the stars less, for they lied to us, they broke their promise---we did not live forever.  xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com Other poems read today:"Indian summer" by Dorothy Parker"My Lost Youth" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I want to be with someonewho dreams of doing everything in life,and nothingon a rainy Sunday afternoon. xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com

We aspireonly to liveour lives well,to fall into the gentle to and fro of life,and the refrains of seasons and tidesrocking us slowly & finally to sleepas old and lovedas we can possibly be. xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com

There is no excuseI've heard worthyto declinea requestby a lady ofreasonablemoralsand pleasantcompanyfor a skinny dipunder a warmsummer moon. xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com

In the morningsshe taught me Frenchand after breakfast she would paintand I would writeand as the spring rain fell on the skylightand the tea steamed from its mugsmy heart hummedto the musicof the dreamwe’d found. xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.com

If I had all the treasure in the world,I would follow my dreams,play with my children,and spend time with my wife.”“No,”said the old man.“If you followed your dreams,played with your children,and spent time with your wife,you would have all the treasure in the world. xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.com

It took me a long time to realizethat I am happiestnot at the partiesor the dinnersor the showsbut at home with youand just our booksour moviesand our tea.And wherever we gofor now and foreverwe will bring this happy with usfor home livesinside us nowwherevertogetherwe go. xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.com 

The truth is—magic lives in all of us who choose to look for it.It lives in the morning in the springtime in Paris, it’s in the smell of the world after the rain, or a stormy afternoon in bed on a Sunday, it’s in warm sweaters and a lovers’ nook, it’s in those sad days that never end, and the happy days that end too soon.It’s in every spicy margarita or bathtub with rosé, it’s in good books and Spanish beaches, it’s the sun warming cheeks through the clouds, it’s in that quiet forest where the trees sway or the way the lake reflects the moon.It’s in art; it’s in music, it’s in words. It’s in you and it’s in me and any of us that choose to find it. For the greatest truth about magic… is that it’s true.xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.comOther poems read today:"Simplicity" by Emily Dickinson"This is Leisure" by William Henry Davies"This is Fern Hill" by Dylan Thomas

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@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com

She was all freckles and magic, this girl that lived next door, pebbles on her window, and she was suddenly there, she took my hand, as the moon pinched at our skin and my heart beat fast as her warmth swallowed me up. It was back through the garden and the hole in the fence, along the path I’d made as a boy — knights in our stories — a thousand times I’d run this trail but not with her. On we ran into the silver-spotted black, quick-moving feet along the picket-patched-paths of moon-light, sprinkling and sparkling along the mossy floor. Her face was everything that young love should be, and it swallowed me with every look. The stars were alive for us and we shared them as only young love could. We ran through moving vines, into a painted silver meadow, where we sailed through the tall milky grass, like a wooden boat, through a silver sea. And there we found our castle, an old stone house, where a moss covered chimney stood alone to spill the secrets of its life. So on that sweeping grass we laid, and spilled

Today's reading is from Atticus' now released third book of poetry, The Truth About Magic. @atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com Thank you to our sponsor Care/of for supporting Atticus and the production of this podcast. Got to www.takecareof.com and use promo code ATTICUS for 25% off your first order of customized vitamins.

Today's reading is from Atticus' now released third book of poetry, The Truth About Magic. @atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com Thank you to our sponsor Care/of for supporting Atticus and the production of this podcast. Got to www.takecareof.com and use promo code ATTICUS for 25% off your first order of customized vitamins.

@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com Thank you to our sponsor Care/of for supporting Atticus and the production of this podcast. Got to www.takecareof.com and use promo code ATTICUS for 25% off your first order of customized vitamins.

@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com Thank you to our sponsor Care/of for supporting Atticus and the production of this podcast. Got to www.takecareof.com and use promo code ATTICUS for 25% off your first order of customized vitamins.