I wake to arms
wrapping me,
gathering thoughts
of where I am,
who I am,
and what day this is.
I hold back,
tightly,
as if the wind would
swift me
away
and I no longer had
the grounding of you
shielding me from the world.
The heat from the bed
penetrates
silently
draping us both,
whispering
little secrets from our travels.
This is the way
every morning should be welcomed:
in the arms of a knight
illuminating light
into my spirit.
As I sat, listening
to your words,
following gestures –
lines connecting,
detaching, intersecting,
circling all around you
passionately expressing
details of where you’ve been
in such joyous promptitude
I wondered how it felt
to be you.
How do the stories,
words, and thoughts
file inside the memory
of such a gentle soul?
How amazing to carry
those moments,
retracting them
at a push of a thought.
Each of us remain connected
by an action,
a lapse in time,
a twinkling pace
causing a scene for
later viewing
alone in personal time
full of tears or giggles.
Your smile paused
the very thought of me
noticing the attentiveness.
In such erratic tone,
the seconds lasted an eternity
when you leaned in,
closed your eyes,
kissed me for the first time
and my moment
was quickly filed under “Love.”
You give me
the kind of feelings
that great novels
hold within their pages –
joy,
laughter,
intimacy,
sweet surrender
and the desperation
of anticipating
the next time we meet.
Each page turns,
the chapters change…
and I wait for the moment
I get to kiss you again.
I inched my way
through covers and barriers
to borrow your warmth,
smell your hair,
feel your skin,
to wrap you around
the rawness of me
as a life jacket,
captivated by the desire
of keeping me hostage
in the prison of your arms.
And,
in the darkness,
rain gently hitting the window,
the wind guiding us afloat,
sparks of electricity
charged and brought
us back to the origin
of you,
me,
as we sailed through
the ocean of us.
I wake kissing your words
with desire
hoping to always
remain here
while licking your heartfelt
love each morning
we are together.
I run fingers through
the meridian lines of
energy intercepting,
provoking and enticing You
to gather me up,
fold me and put me
into that place of heaven
only you know how to do.
Some moments have no room for words
because just uttering a syllable
could diminish their magic.
This is such a moment
as you lie on your stomach,
bare back saluting and hypnotizing
my fingers in circles,
dragging with tender motions to
some magnetic field of joy.
The candle flickers in the background
and your breath find its rhythm.
You are mine…right now
and I understand true beauty
as my fingertips search your skin,
folding over body heat,
exploring through scars, lines and curves
while leaving my prints to testify
that I was here.
Tears swell in my eyes
as I prop up on my hand to witness
you next to me napping
and light creating a masking silhouette
of a gentle soul.
I am seeing exquisiteness
through divinity in you.
Years from now when someone asks
for a beautiful memory I will return
to this place time and time again.
I will transport myself to the very second
when I couldn’t conjure up an adjective
to describe the scene without sounding corny.
Somehow this moment will be added to others
but for now I can cherish my touch upon your body
and the nurturing it returns with a sleepy sigh.
I let go
surfing in your ebb
following the tides of your heartbeat.
I got lost in the currents
that took me to the edge
of a new world –
I was forever yours
at that moment.
I shivered from cold,
from heat,
from disorientation
of what I’ve never known to be
because this intimacy
without words,
façade,
expectations
is not something I have known.
What will become of me now
that I’ve tasted this nectar
full of salt and sweetness
from a different earth?
This disengagement of my soul
is not a normal dive into the ocean.
I need to find my place along your side
with and without drowning in
my own deep waters….
You are never far
from my extremities.
On our bed
limbs journey towards you,
toes rubbing against
the warmth of your legs
nudging at flesh,
kneading through muscles,
digging for the promise
of magnetism.
Hands stretch
for assurance in
bridging the distance
between here and there.
You allow for it,
enticed by the hunger
of a give-and-take affection
as we silently converse.
Whenever I get lost
in a book or movie
I find your fingers
studiously reaching,
magically appearing
under mountains of blankets
for more love
between the quietude
that defines the comfort of us.
And in one moment
you take my hand
gently placing
that last kiss of night
on the palm of my skin
to remind me
of the things
I don’t have to say.
Last night we shared
one pillow –
two heads touching softness,
grey hairs intertwining,
within and beneath us.
Two bodies cradled
together
becoming one
with no beginning
or ending
or rough edges,
just us laying
without the expectations
of youth.
And when I turned
to look at you
I saw my reflection
touching your face,
kissing your lips,
then closing my eyes
to the understanding
that I was finally home again.
Moments with Millie 