Saturday, March 20, 2010

The melodic drift

The scent of the moon
echoes across my skin,
leaving a trail
of color
to mark her path;
tracing delicate
patterns of oneness
in my veins.

Oh, to be light again,
she whispers,
to hold a sunbeam in my cup
and spill it out into the world...
This rhythmic waxing and waning --
the melodic drift
from full to empty
and back again --
is wearing thin,
and breaking down
the walls I built
protecting me from you.

* * *

1 comment:

Maureen said...

Wonderful blues; they are the first thing I notice. I like especially how the light falls, both in the image and through the words.