A divinity's creature a mystical soul

A celestial creation a memory's ghost

A spirit...

Words Of Harfouchism

Ed Sheeran, wine, candles
And cheese.

It doesn't -by the gods- get
Better than this, I think

To myself. So she clears her
Throat quietly, and

Sings. Softly
Along.

my rough and tattered edges like sea glass
smoothly rounded by her passions
relentlessly polished by intimate contact
with her welling water and earthy grit

the reality of her excites me
humbling any romantic doubt
dispelling any fantasy skepticism
instilling a will for the moment

she is energy in pure spherical form
encircling this scattered life
she holds for me a sense of place
a bookmark to poetic existence

just as bands bind magic barrel staves
as rainbows secretly circle underground
as concentric rings indicate growth
love will revolve even as it expands

occurring slowly, imperceptibly
efficacy being subtly reduced
no longer radiating as it once had
decaying in all that matters

life awaiting reconception
metamorphosis to wholeness
but transition is rarely painless
its passage dark and damp

anxious waking in predawn gloom
curled within the womb of familiar
under a fraying comforter of security
worn even too thin for reality veiling

cutting the cord to the past is crucial
mindfully maintaining nurturing ties
a healthy present breathes its own air
into a future released from half-life

I must know...

the smell of your blowing hair
   in the leaf-strewn autumn wind

the touch of your hand on my chest
   closely held in a sleepy winter bed

the sight of your eyes lit with wonder
   for the beauty of spring's first flowers

the sound of your voice calling my name
   through a window from a summer garden

...and as the cycle renews...

the taste of your fertility
   under the cover of a harvest moon

...there simply aren't enough seasons
to gain a complete sense of all that you are

She jumps up when my key turns,
Leaving her sofa;
Greeting me like a puppy would
Its owner after

Twenty one dog-days.
I drop my bag and guitar,
Swimming in the scent of
Woman straight

From shower. All is home with
This girl. No palace of gold, no
City in the clouds,
No exotic boat ride on

Green waters, no top of any
Mountain, no bar, casino or
Cabin in the world where I'd
Rather be than here.

After we've sat -nearly on top
Of each other- for a while, she
Asks what I'd like to do now.
Anything that includes my

Girlfriend, I reply, and she hugs
Me for the seventeenth time in
As many minutes.
Can't stop touching each other.  

Her hair is a unicorn's mane
Against my hands, skin like a baby's
Tummy, hands like those of a young
Mother's upon anything she

Loves; all with the honest affection  
Of one.
I am home, I sigh to myself, and
She looks at me as if thinking

He is home, leaving me so
Happy for us both that I just
Want to lean down over our relationship
And pat it lovingly behind its ear.