God's soup

Its dark
Its like God was carrying a thick black soup
and, entranced by the bright light of day,
Without looking, He tripped and it spilled on the sky
and all of the light went away
so He tried to scrape it all off with His nail
but it was too soupy to dry
so He left it but some of His sparkle shown through
Bright specks in the dark soup sky
then He sat on his chair, and looked at the spill
and the dreaming world below it
and He beamed at the dark and the sparkling stars
like the work of an artist or poet
His creation, so different from light of day
giving peace, watching sleepy eyes droop
and he whispered on winds through the cool breeze of night
"...I hope you like my soup..."

Just a friend

Is it enough to be a friend
is there merit in just this?
having all that is of value
but without the precious kiss?
Am I content to know your stories
sharing secret smiles and quips
when my heart is only thinking
of the taste upon your lips?
Can I smile and just pretend
Let you think I've no desire
to feel your touch upon me
and burn with true love's fire?
Would I trade my held position
as a friend that you adore
for a night of breathless passion
and the bite of sweet amour?
I wonder every day
what I'd give for just a chance
that my heart will be requited
and entwined in true romance
Though ignited passion blazes
but might die out soon and end
But yet, my heart still ponders
Is it enough to be a friend?