No confusion wrinkles her forehead, eyes affixed first on his lips
until magnetically drawn to eyes blue as a mountain lake.
Comfort rests across her chest. Hips burn together and
her cheek brushes the ironclad hardness of his bicep.
They walk enmeshed. Traces of trepidation, 
scars embedded in her mind from tragic romance, fade. 
Residual fears fall to the trail among twigs and stones.
Rebirth of trust creeps into her heart. 
Together their feet trample her qualms.

It’s spring 
on the shore
near Isle of Palms
their toes dig deep 
in wet sand 

until shards of shells 
fashion a strip 
that challenges their soles
as they tiptoe forward

A faint-hearted rainbow
bridges sea to sky above 
while they walk 
along the wind blown shore

She sees the arch of colors as an omen 
that love fades
like the bronze backs of teenagers 
turn pale in autumn’s shadows

He regards the
vague glow
as a pristine promise
that their love will grow.

He attempts to link 
fingers as a sign of endearment.
She smiles, swings her hands in rhythm
and quickens her pace before him

shelves filled
pages turned
podcasts downloaded
unfinished soundtracks
surrounded by media
mostly lies
pulpits visited
sermons forgotten

silence beckons
sit, notice
insight sifts

mist becomes
droplets
comfort
contentment

absorb this moment
search no more

advertisement beckoned
free screening
trouser thuds upon hardwood
metal belt buckle clinks
gloved finger
probes to find
a nodular protrusion
resting sac bound
begotten, benign
now watch, wait

shall it birth
some high grade
tumor
with a passionate
desire to consume
the whole of you

vigilant
on guard
living
on edge
for inevitable
struggle
around each
new scrutiny
of numbers
presented in decimals
detectors of death
prowling
seeking to find
an oasis
to plant
to grow

Bread is gray, molding
No toast and jam this morning
Food for chickadee

Still in your pink sleeper
Poking your smartphone

I watch the raindrops
playing dribble on the patio

Looking over plastic frames
You search through missives

Dark eyes still intriguing
Captivating as our first encounter

Still overwhelming
This urge to embrace

Tell me am I love
or am I suffering
Am I stepping into the black
or into purity
So purity is white
and white is purity
Am I noticed for love
or projecting my suffering
hoping to be on stage
for all to see
Love is pure
Suffering is pure
Love is marred
as are flecks
pitting the whole
of suffering