Dappled Golden Light

Knock softly to find me in the spare room, 
set to the side for tired eyes to visit.
Where I am nested in silky cream linens, 
undercover. 
Drawn shades with dappled golden light; always.

From across the room, you watch me,
pleased at my stillness.
And pinned under your stare, I wait.
As you slowly drink me in,
up and then down.
And maybe back up again.

Slow steps towards me, 
then shadowed by shoulders, broad and wide.
Strong hands filled with paused intention,
suspenseful as they take their time.
And wander 
over my soft form.
Pressed against me,
I ache to take you in.
Interlaced fingers, parted lips.

Sighs.


Come read me on Medium here.

Photo by Mink Mingle on Unsplash

Our Ghosts Running

The summer treetops shaded us and the hot air
kept us flushed
through the pursuit of the moment.

And when those leaves began to fall around us,
we listened as they
were crunched by our footsteps.

In the fall air, we were warm and hazy,
with creases from laughter
upon our pink faces.

And then through the swirling snowflakes
we found
how nice cold noses felt
when pressed against warm cheeks.

And we ran towards something
but
towards nothing.

And in the icy valley, we left it there.
Ghosts running
through the trees in time-past.
Gone,
but never really fading.

7.29.19 Cuyahoga River, Ohio: photo by author

Also published on Medium. Read me here.

*Top Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash

That Sudden Lone Light

Photo by Immortal shots on Pexels.com

Can I tell you?

Can I tell you how I crave that flash of white- that sudden lone light?

The one that finds me— in surprise —  in the deep, deep, dark tunnel where I hide.

Can I tell you how time stopped; standing just perfectly still?

A split second somehow stretched into a space filled with forever.

Breath removed from the air; underwater sounds whispered in my ear.

My frozen stare; blinding and surreal.

My North Star. So brilliant and white.

;

Will you be gone in a flash — like the flash in which you came?

Gone — and only the craving of light left to remain?

Blow through me then — would you mind just blowing me away?

Please can I tell you?

Can I tell you what happened?

Can I tell you how I need you to tell me, too?


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