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
