Love weaves poetry
from two voices
defter than any poets pen
and in silence
imbued with passionate memory
my pen weaves
just an echo
backlit by Love!

Cast in amber shadows
Slow the thick light gathering
Slow the evening’s long embrace
The moon’s sigh soft in the clouds
And drifting down
Stardust showers us

In the shadows time’s passage
These stardust mountains and valleys
This end of eons, far from the stars
At the far side of the turning wheel
In amber shadows end the day

Once two vast stars danced
Together their heavenly minuet
Burst in wild ecstasy, spinning and turning
Burst in wild ecstasy, fire and burning

Now together we dance
Slow to the memory
In each other’s arms,
Of when we were once stars!

Not a rock
carved smooth ovate
immutable in ossified intent

but an egg
quiescent peacock hues
hatching in YOUR imagination

Were I with you every day
I would rest in your arms
Stare up, a moonstruck hare
At a slow eclipse of hours

Were I with you every day
Soft luxury of tender touch
Prevaricate in velvet stillness
Under long clouds, long sighs

Were I with you every day
Wrapped in hibernating warmth
A nacreous glow illuminates
Outside’s lunar seas

But I am not and so
Busily I start to stitch
The quilt of my life fast to yours
Decorate this nest with coloured geegaws
Built, not just experienced
This place is ours, this place endures

we sat, you and I
not waiting but being  
like the hawk that circled above
and invisible fishes below
after the rain, in the wet
watching the empty shore.

we saw mountains
thick with green pelts of
bamboo grove and conifer;
a park on the shore
neat and clean as
a public information map;
boats and ripples
held in static snowglobe motion.

even the air was less heavy
less breathed
condensing in the mountain cool
and rolling down to us
a sundae for our souls.

I saw it in your face,
you were home,
there was nowhere more

sunrise skies, blue and hard as enamel,
held in place with power cable nets
pressing down like separation
holding in place my mood
as a fish frozen hard in ice

mornings with no kisses are brittle and sharp
with no hugs are cold and mineral
with no words are harsh and cutting
with no you are winter crystalised

as I walk where we walked
the imprint of your gloved hand
develops from memory like a photograph
my feet find the cadence of your footsteps
and I am warmed by togetherness like a stove

the taste of Valentines sweet on my lips
but not as sweet as your kisses

like this
your imprint in my life
footsteps in the damp sand
fills
with the incoming tide of days