Don't be surprised

Don't be surprised

(After reading Pablo Neruda)

It was bound to happen.
For days the ache lay 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 eyes glisten along the path.
In this November of my life, the voice
knows not of language--a circle of sound
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
Pablo Neruda, and by the same shore,
I would end my journey, place roots
within his, lie quiet, and await
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.