Reflecting on your tranquil life…
Reflecting on your tranquil life, I gaze at you in repose, your eyes pearls shaken loose from treetops, silvered.
Rain pelts our roof with pebbles as you drift into sleep, river brushwood rubbing shoulders with land.
Rising and falling, a cloud bumping over a mountain, your white arms. Turning, you exhale deeply. Mist gently pushes back your hair.
Wild brushstrokes of pillows and linens tumble as children, their laughter, bolts of silk, shimmying.
Gazebo freshly planted, you wind your legs and arms about a trellis.
Let us be orchids who widen our filigreed faces, leaves tapering to wax points proffering greetings.
Nodding plants in a circle, we will dine with April as our guest, grasping his warm hands from the vows of dawn until the crown of dusk.
|Wild brushstrokes of pillows and linens...|