The flowers meet as the words of thought, the leaves touch in the wind, here, you share the little poems of the earth with me, I hold you close under the sun, in each other arms as a blanket, a place where we will both feel safe, untorn in the warm amber glow, healing our sore souls in our gentle sleep, I will say to you, in silence, “the answer of your existence is my home”.
That brief moment Walking into the shaded apartment to find you reading in flannel And everything in me jumps The camera obscura of my iris snaps, Suspending you in amber light. The tapered elegance of your fingers across a page A glint of Versailles blue-gold eyes And fortified ramparts of your shoulders. I will carry this vestige with me In a petticoat pocket Until we are old And your arms do not lift me as you just did The last strand of your hair is silver And your cheeks sink with age like your father’s. These small gems of youth Of promise To keep in a sleeve until they are needed And the mirrors show reflections we cannot change