Tuesday, March 26, 2013
It was bound to happen.
For days the ache lie at the door;
an intractable silhouette that refused
to slip away.
I step outside, stand beside the autumn
leaves. I dream a dream of kissing you
amid the moist air. Is it only a dream?
If not, then what?
Because it is here in the traces of
footfall that I imagine you.
Your hands gather mine, place them
to chest, where everything burns,
where each second is counted
where the tongue thickens along the path.
In this September of my life, the voice
knows not of language a circle of
like an echo, subtle in the mouth.
With cool hands, I button my coat
and I walk the distance of your smile.
I consider the words of
Neruda and by the same shore,
I would end my journey, place roots
within his, lie quiet, and await for you
to discover me.
If your heels drag in season, and you
cannot reach me if your heels drag
in season, and you could never reach
me, the sea breeze would shatter my
form, the dream would fade away.
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 9:35 AM