the Solstice

tender limbs seek relief

not from a foretime’s impetuous work weeding beds

a different, deep, enthralling ache bellows from my core

i long to be with him

to laugh, beam in a concert of rapture

indubitable joy in hewed lines on our faces

burrow tight dancing to phantom music

sit under a canopy of magnolia inspirit with sweet fragrance

touching fingertips

softly embracing

possibility

such afternoon of unencumbered

bliss, a yearning so urgent

my lashes wet with anticipation

there i pause

does his mental palace brim with equal urgency

thus grounds for the sudden stir?

if an invisible tie should bind

where shall i find reprieve?

truth portrays brighter

than fiction

maybe this is nothing

perhaps he is everything

the Solstice awaiting our return

~smf