Before us a river.
An ancient pier juts bravely out into the current;
its weathered boards defiant and unaffected
by the waves which lap at its pylons like
the tongue of a greyhound on a giggling face.
The sun beats down yet the temperature never climbs,
hindered by the swollen clouds dragged in by the salty breeze.
Two refuges from another place and another time,
misused and battered around like a jealous alley cat
with its treasured yet tattered ball of yarn.
Our mouths overflow with sweet words of affirmation,
our skin pleading for endless caresses.
As we reluctantly gather ourselves to return home,
the setting sun whispers sweet reassurance,
that a wayward era has come again for evermore.

Our paths are two sides of the same circle;
once leading away, but with enough unwavering steps,
inevitably bringing us back to where we began--a place
hidden away in some dusty attic corner, but still treasured.
We have always belonged here, our lives intertwined
like the nest of wires running behind an otherwise tidy office desk.
Just as those wires, with determination, can be sorted and labeled,
mistakes and messy epochs can be deprecated and cast aside,
clearing space to be filled again with limitless passion and sublime beauty.

Once more we will be just a boy and just a girl all alone in the night.
The candle light dances to the tribal rhythm of our hearts;
painting the playful blue walls in hypnotic patterns of light and dark--
a shadow puppet concert performed for our amusement.
In those moments, two souls can only be one,
surrendering to the desires born of all the things which once were
and rewarded, finally, with permission to dream of all the happiness
which we never believed we deserved nor could ever again be.

06/28/2009

Posted on 06/29/2009
Copyright © 2024 Alex Chambers