I could spend years
tracing your footsteps and never lose
sight of their uniqueness.
Time is gathered like verse,
veiled and bound as is the rest, but somehow
more alive,
heart and soul forever reminded of the
implications. This stanza will join the
rest, singing sweetly in your testament as
memories recompile until they shine again.
It’s dreams of which I speak.
Truth is but a silhouette there;
I can have you like I’ve always wanted to:
lying forehead to forehead with my finger
crossing the valley between your lips,
grass prickling our sides, poking
like youth and pleading for attention.
But I have none to spare, it has
all be stolen by eyes and hair.
Lost in brown, tranced by a single wish
when finally lips unite, gently, slowly caressing
like my hand which has wandered to your neck.
Inhaling, exhaling; breathing
you in to show you how I feel inside.
Above a fugitive leaf breaks
free and flutters
from an oak, landing just beside us,
but we’ll never notice.
The world has moved on
leaving only us behind.

06/28/2001

Posted on 07/28/2005
Copyright © 2024 Alex Chambers