you were pressed against me in moments captured on mind’s film, your presence borne of a heart’s breaking into new acquaintance with harmony. the paradise of your eyes sang poems without lustful melodies- desire was of the whole me, she sexual, she intellectual, the real me who is at times apprehensive that wants to love you deeply… not sometimes, but on every day that the sunrise is blessed with the honor of dripping its rays of light onto your polished bronze cast, illuminating a rainbow tinted path to my daily lyric of love, floating off my tongue to you, hymn of the him i see in your apparition. yes… daily a love articulated to you in symphonies of love’s observations and declarations to you. days that yawned and stretched themselves into weeks and years of our union, would pass through time’s sands, with the rapidity of pleasure experienced in each and every breath taken, seeming everlasting to us, as we flowed back and forth rhyme, scribe to scribe. i fantasize of that era… after our touching becomes natural …and less shy…. and to think i may have never revealed the sensations which sat crystallized in that state, as a rose pressed between the pages of a love story, still holding the pattern of its fragrance, waiting to be set free in its re-birth from a two dimensional remembrance to a living entity, wondering if you would water it with your own care…. the recollection of how it almost was not

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