The scent of honeysuckle rests
lightly on the night breeze,
rendolent memories beguile me.

My grandparents stealing a kiss
on an old white garden seat,
his knotted fingers carressing
her weathered skin
with a tenderness that
takes her breath,
they whisper to each other
like children with a perfect secret
....long life, lived in love.

The breeze allows another,
hint of sweet nectar,
I am surrounded by the sound of bees,
wings vibrato,
greedily harvesting ambrosia,
I stand between eons,
not in fear but awe.
at the simplicity of it all.

One more fragrant breath,

I turn to my man
and whisper,
I promise to you eons.