Somehow, Sweet Lady

(how is a mystery yet)

I want to know you

beyond the confines of words

in a setting

(perhaps a magical bower)

where we can escape
the compromise of language,

(a magical bower does sound nice);

where we communicate
like trees in the wind
or tulips touching
on a breezy day in spring.

A place where a glance,
a touch or a smile says it all.

Where words do not
confound understanding.

(Definitely a magical bower!)

I am going to pursue this
(though it's an odd task
for a poet to undertake).

I'll post an ad on Craigslist:

Seeking magical bower for two:
must be a circle of silence
where gesture and touch reign.

And we will go there and live

(in that magical bower)

in our own quiet knowing
with nothing more to say
than what can be said
by the enchanted music of bodies,

(in a magical bower)

where I can love you
as hushed and completely
as those trees, those tulips.

   ~mce