As drizzle hits the dull yellow hills
of summers starvation
A beetle flies towards its nest
Dry stalks grow longer
like outstretched hands
as though reaching for a reward
for enduring the summer scorch
.
A humid, amorous afternoon
The air dense with the intoxication
of your presence
Peace found in the depth
of a voice and its ring
.
That sense of impending melancholy
staring from the dark of our favorite corner
Then the creak of a door being shut
assuring me you're staying a while;
.
And something in me quietly slips
into place once again
Home is sometimes not a place
but only a certain heartbeat
.
Let me have this, this alone
Coz somewhere in the universe
this must be allowed
.

a.anon