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.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 4:43 AM UTC
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.
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