Iterations


Of my muse follow me throughout the day.

A murder of crows.

A swooping in the sky, twirling and diving.

Soaring on updrafts of wind.

Silent I watch from the other side of the window pane.

The wind in the avocado tree.

The palimpsest of leaves shifting, the russet where the sun has kissed

Blemished the succulent texture and left a burnish there

Like how you have burnished my heart.

Brushing it with the softest I love you whispered in my ear.

I recall the first time I heard you say it.

6 point font.

So small.

So soft.

A fingerprint of love I had to dust for.

Uncertain I had heard the words.

Were they spoken.

Or.

Thought loudly.

A shining soft brightness though.

A fortissimo of piano strings.

And then.

The softest Debussy notes.

Suite number 3.

Bergamasque.

Claire de Lune.

And I feel you there.

Under my skin.

Arousing me when I least expect it.

The call of the sky to me through the plate-glass.

The press of you inside and out, the slip of tongue,

A gliding soaring fragrance of jasmine cool in the night on my skin.

A whisper of wood smoke from beach bonfires.

The drift of a country ballad lament from a passing car.

My musing, my muse, chasing me through my day.

The last thought at night before I sleep.

The first thought in the morn upon awakening.

Always I awaken.

To this moment.

Fresh flowers in a Mason jar.

Love notes passed in lyrics.

Archipelagos of dreams scattered through my veins.

You on the doorstep.

Wry and amused with me.

I forgot to invite you in but like the second time you said I love you,

That time in 12 point font, I realized that there was never a need.

To extend.

That invitation.

As you belong with me and I with you.

Without question.

Without doubt.

Ferocious veracity.

I thrum for you.

Cello strings and vibrations.

Music of the spheres.

Muse of mine.

Kissing time.

Scattered across my chest like freckles.

Rose petals of song.

And the romance of seeing the world.

Tinged by the filter of you.

All things poetry.

All things love.

And.

Eros.

I drift.

Lost.

Upon this sea.

Until you anchor me.

Again.

 

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