The gathering grays are called to play
By winds born from a song of distant shores.
Buffeted by broken beams of hope
I watch as darkness swirls and swallows,
Devouring the Sun’s dying breath.
Shadows fall fast and furious
As rhythmic raindrops shroud my sight,
Until I glance upon the glass
An image reflected. That face lit by love’s eternal light.
She stands behind me with tilted head.
Her arm she raises to touch my shoulder
And with that touch the darkness wanes.
I turn to face her, beholding this beacon before me.
Rose hued robe shifts and slides as she steps close. Not close enough.
My fingers reach to touch a cheek flushed like the robe
She now lets fall as her anxious breaths heave and swell.
I am taken hold and given life by the magic of this woven spell.
Now gone all thought of clouds. Of dark. Of storms.
The remnant of her robe cascades before me
And she releases, removes mine which binds.
She touches me and with soft kiss bestowed
Gives hallowed glory such that I groan with need. To have.
Within each other we now are wrapped in eager breath and motion.
Each glance goes deep. Each touch brings light. Brings heat.
Open and aching we give to take, to touch, to taste
The fired frenzy of loves purest gift. Until at last the spell now cast
Has granted us this our heart’s glorious respite.