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Connie Buchan Sep 2013
the flame burns close
too hot
held near the skin
too close
trying to see the soul within
too near
a glimpse captured
too dear
breaking a sweat
too real
giving a burn
too you.
test how close
too much
back off a bit
too right
wait for the fire to catch
too long
turn up the heat
too far
all is ablaze
too late
out of control and away
too me.
Connie Buchan Sep 2013
They had been lying there all night, each curled into the shape of the other.  Neither one had thought they would be at ease enough to actually drift off, but they had. He didn’t know how long they had slept; just that it had been the best sleep he had had in a long time. He resisted the approach of morning, afraid that any telltale movement would awaken her lying there in the crook of his arm with her head resting against his chest. Gently gazing down upon her sleeping face, he wasn’t quite sure if he was awake or still dreaming. He had played this moment over in his mind, both while awake and sleeping, so many times that at this very moment he just couldn’t believe it was real.

As she slowly pulled back from the misty images of dreamland her subconscious told her of the change in his breathing. She felt the smooth, firm cushion of his skin where her head was resting on his chest. His quickening heartbeat told her he was already awake but she wasn’t quite ready to break the magical spell of their night together.

She felt a slight squeeze as he ever so gently, pulled her in closer. She slowly woke and stretched her hand out across his chest and down his long torso. She noticed how warm he was to her touch as she felt the contours of his well formed muscles. He stretched slightly and she straightened her body to align along side his, feeling the firmness of his form contrasting to her soft feminine curves. As her long nails gently teased the inside of his thigh, his strong arms enveloped her. She couldn’t have escaped if she had wanted to. Her desire grew and she knew escape was not what she would ever want again.

Gently turning her face to his, he kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her neck. Circling around to that small indentation at the base of her throat, a light but longing moan escaped her slightly parted lips. With a moist kiss their bodies molded together; a perfect blend.

He told himself his morning run was going to have to wait.
Connie Buchan Sep 2013
You will never know the extent to which you have been woven into my life.

Whether it is by accident or some greater design, I do not know.

I am a middle-aged, woman whose life fell apart a few years ago.

When I began sewing it back together, the thread that is you was laced into the weave.

Now the fabric in my lap is not what I would have ever envisioned in a million years.

It is full of expression, new people and exciting discoveries at every turn.

My life would have changed anyway but I think I like it better with you in the pattern.

You have an amazing gift. Not just your musical talent but your ability to somehow touch inside another person without even appearing to try or to know that you do.

Are you aware of this gift? Be careful with it. It is magical.

Thank you for everything you have given to me, especially yourself.
Connie Buchan Sep 2013
Cold and dreary,
My heart is weary.
I long for the sun.

Warm and bright
Chase away the night.
Leaving dreams undone.

Flowers bloom
Light fills the room.
Long days of romp and fun.

But alas, it’s gray
yet another day.
Yellow sunshine, there is none.
Connie Buchan Sep 2013
I lay in a tub of bubbles thinking of your soft voice and gentle smile.
I feel your hand wrap around mine as we walk down the street.
I see our reflection in the shop windows.
We seem comfortable.
The shop owner mistakes us for husband and wife and we don’t correct him.
But somehow, you are not ready.

We spend a lazy day doing errands and paying bills.
You leave me in the car as you run in to book a moving truck,
Me ready to move the vehicle if we get scolded.
We are at easy and enjoying the day.
You tell me things you have not told anyone.
But somehow, you are not ready.

I beam as you approach the house, happy to see you.
You kiss me tenderly when we meet and again because the first one felt so good.
You give me a special gift when you didn’t really need to.
It is beautiful and suits me just like you knew it would.
You are tired and I understand you need to sleep.
No, you are not ready.

We talk for many hours about many things.
You do not want to tell all so I do not push.
I want to support you and let you know you can talk to me.
You need to talk to someone.
This is a hard time for you.
I know you are not ready.

We get closer, too close.
Closer than we both intended.
We know this may be a mistake but we are taken up in the moment.
You are strong but I lead you.
You pull back and I let you.
No, you are not ready.

You want this to be different.
We both want this to be special.
It would be nice if it could be.
We would both be happy, perhaps.
One day you will be ready.
But right now you are not ready.
I hope I am there when you are.
Connie Buchan Sep 2013
I am never up at this hour on an ordinary day. Is this to be an extra-ordinary day? Pulling up I see 4 beers cans perched on the lower cement pillars by the water’s edge, remnants of an interrupted night before. The cans are still full.
It is almost perfectly calm but not quite. You seldom get a completely calm day in this windy prairie city. Slight ripples reflect the emerging light and make the lake dance and twinkle, a happy moment of day’s awakening. As the eastern sky lightens natural silhouettes take form. Birds floating in the distance, the far off shoreline, tree tops and buildings share the horizon. Water beetles break the surface with the larger ones exposing themselves with a flip, then down they go again. Lights on Albert Street Bridge and the Promenade make for a pretty picture on this late summer’s morn’. I click but will have to wait until later to see if they actually turn out good enough.
The birds begin to move around. Seagulls flying above catching slow to nest night bugs, other water birds start off on their daily trek around the lake, back and forth. A cyclist rides by and a man passes out for his morning walk. Both say good morning, happy to share this beautiful hour of the day with a kindred spirit.
It is a less than spectacular sunrise but that is okay. My camera batteries are dead now anyway. I will have to rise in the wee hours of another 24 to capture a good one and share it with you. Good thing tomorrow is another day.
Connie Buchan Sep 2013
Eyes of deep and mossy green
You gaze and the future’s seen.
Eyes so bright and brilliant blue
Cool, fresh liquid is the hue.
Hazel eyes change with every look
Their gentle stare is the hook.
Chocolate brown, rich and deep
My tender heart they do keep.
Eyes so grey, a misty sweep
Are on the edge to make you weep.
Moist and calling spheres
Keep our rapture through the years.
That special gaze we keep for one
But when we catch we are undone.
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