Free Verse # 266 (their fingers touched)

With his lips and fingers
he traced her freckles,
counting, memorizing, alighting,
the way a poem-flame grazes
a sky made of stars.


She stood before the mirror
and kept whispering his name,
by and by her lips flowered
and the bees and butterflies
came in to feast and sip.


Their fingertips touched
and the silence filled with the wonder
of a thousand budding stars


With a gaze forged
by the fire of longing
she looked at him,
her heart a red rose budding,
silence gathering them
like clouds in the sky.


Like water through the vale,
like waves lapping the shore
his hands caressed her
until her skin became
a burning sea of light.


Her skin
the texture of a poem
weeping tender light


I long for a poem
I cannot name,
the shape of her lips
uttering my silence.


Before him she laid,
a white poem,
an abyss of light
calling him to exist
in the act of spilling
his fervent ink
into her endless landscape,
writing her into
the expanse of his silence,
folding her and becoming
an ocean in her love.


He writes
and on the blank page
sees her unfolding,
hills, valleys, mountains,
a primal earth birthing him,
setting him free.

5 thoughts on “Free Verse # 266 (their fingers touched)

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