Stepping to the floor with her hand held gently, the music
plays in a slow, rhythmic pulse. Upon reaching the center of the floor, I turn
slowly to face her and take her frail frame into my arms. Supporting her waist
through the satin gown that flows from the gentle breeze whispering through the
open sash of the ballroom arches, we await the timing of the music to catch up
to our hearts. Standing motionless, poised, with our eyes embracing the soul we
find in each other unable, and unwilling to release the gaze. Then within the
moment of the heartbeat, we move. Rising to the tempo of the motion within the
strings of the violin. Slipping down to the passion of the trombone while
spinning to the colors of the drums as they entwine within the fabrics of the
bonds we hold onto. Dancing. Noticing nothing, save the intimacy of our own
union.
Slowly, the music fades, slipping from the conscious world as we raise
our being above the toiled ground. Stars become the luminescence within your
eyes, reflected to the heavens so others may aspire for the purity of the love
that grows within the fertile bounds of our time.
RKW - 08/01/88
Sitting on the balcony in the many seasoned lawn chair, I
watch as the sun slowly settles into the shadowed mountains across the water.
The jean cut-offs that should have been thrown away last year are stretched to
the point of almost breaking the seam as I raise my bare legs, placing my heels
upon the wrought iron railing. The wind gently caresses the hair on my chest,
cooling the heat from day. The beer in my hand is cold enough to almost be
uncomfortable, but before I set it on the small patio table beside me, I take a
couple of deep, full swallows. Below, on the street full of teen cruiser's in
their tricked out cars, the beach bunnies bare as much skin as possible to the
too quickly fading sun. I start to think back.....
In the
darkened room, your supple hands gently clasp behind my neck, light as a
feather, yet placed with the intent of not moving. The warmth of your body
radiates, like that of an over stocked fire, at every point your flesh touches
mine. The droplets of moisture cling to you, then yield from their volume as
each tries to hang on. The wisp of hair that crosses your smile nearly inhibits
my view of your lips, barely open, allowing the deepened breathing that we both
share. I carefully place it back among the passion whipped strands behind your
ear. The perfect pearl that shines in each eye entrances me. I know not if
they are caused from the full moon rushing into the room, or from the light that
seems so bright within your soul. I lean forward, and we define the meaning of
"A Lovers Kiss."
The phone next to me rings, bringing me
back to the dusk, as the sun now below the peaks, paints the sky with fiery
orange and red, backed by a deepening blue. Irritated by the interruption, I
reach for the receiver, and speak coldly into it, "Hello!"
After a moment of silence, I hear the voice of a dream... "You sound like
you need a hug, Lover."
RKW - 09/10/88
The thoughts of the past few days race within my mind. I
can see your smile as your head turns in slow motion, swinging the curls of your
auburn hair to their shoulder length extent, then gently swaying into their
perfect position as they always are. The shine in your eyes betray the
excitement in your heart the snow white kitten you hold brings to you. Your
image fades.....
...Standing at the window, I reach for the curtains
and part them. Below, the jet black pavement of the rain dampened parking lot
reflects tiny stars. Reflections of the street lamp across the way, in the
trapped mini pools of life giving moisture. The clouds seem to have parted, and
a full, bright moon emerges and bathes the ground with a soft radiant glow. I
turn my head and look at your sleeping form as the moon light follows my gaze.
You stir, ever so slight, as if to let me know that you are real, and here by
choice. Your choice. Again, your image fades....
...Laughter.
Behind the big oak tree. I step to the left, making sure to break the twigs on
the ground so to be heard. The rustling of leaves from the other side tells of
little feet moving to remain hidden. Suddenly, a child breaks into a run. Full
strides carrying her little body as fast as they can. A playful scream erupts
from the smiling face of the child as she aims her intent towards the tan,
quilted blanket still scattered with leftover paper plates of a mostly eaten
lunch. She reaches her goal and plummets her tiny frame into your waiting arms,
and presses her dimpled cheek against yours. Again, a giggle remarks of her
joy. And again, your image fades from view....
...The rain has
started, and your train has long since pulled from the station. Slowly, I begin
to realize the lack of roofing above me has let the water drench my clothing.
Turning my collar up and burying my hands deep in my pockets I turn and start to
walk away. The street lights no longer shine. They seem to just laugh. I tell
myself that you'll be back. And still the street lights seem to laugh.....But
they never fade.....
RKW - 11/05/89
The day with you has been one of those God
given moments in time that inspire the great poets to draft their unfinished
works. The hues of twilight fill the sky as afternoon gives way to the night,
and relinquishes the consuming bright to the twinkling stars. These happen so
to bring the glow from your smile. Your ever present smile.
So
here we sit, together, to feast upon a meal of splendor which fails to be
acknowledged. The bouquet that fragrances the air is sweet, and light, and one
could only guess as to whether it abounds from the crimson red roses, or floats
from the smooth perfection of your perfumed neck. Behind each ear, and deep
within the cleavage of your chest is my thought of its source.
The
twin slender candles match the flowers in color, and provide the penetration of
your gaze deep within my heart, where you'll find peace. The tranquility of
Utopia, sought by so many, yet provided by you to me. The flickering light of
the flame does nothing to inhibit the aura surrounding you as we sit.
Wordless.
The cloth upon the table is pure as the high plains
snow, satin to the touch, with a fine lace border. The tan of your skin glows
golden against it. As my hand reaches for yours, I lean over the small table to
kiss your lips that beckon me.....
And you fall to the
floor..........
Moving my chair quickly, I come around the table
and bend down to pick you up. Turning you over, I'm relieved to see the glass
didn't break. I place the picture frame back on the table. I return to my
seat and begin to eat as you stare at me with your loving eyes. Quietly I enjoy our
meal.......
RKW - 11/19/88
The night has descended around me without a whisper so as
to not disturb my thoughts. Barely noticing the shadows upon the rippled water
below, the sounds of night emerge. The rails of the wooden bridge, which seldom
carries the weigh of a passing car, holds me above the small brook.
The
daytime flocks have long since quieted their songs, to be replaced with the
rigid cracking of twigs as they fall to the ground, blown from the body of the
forest. As the wind raises then lowers only to rise again, the chill of
solitude envelopes my skin, enough to tug at my mind and warn of an up-coming
storm.
Reluctant to have the world crowding my thoughts, once
again, I climb down from the rail. The gravel crackles as my feet intrude upon
it's stillness. Slowly, I begin to walk, noticing not the form that had been
watching me for who knows how long. Then she spoke. Clad in a warm jacket that
clung tightly from her neck to mid-thigh, gloved, and warm boots she stood
before me. The wind teased her hair, yet always placed each strand perfectly
back as if it could do no other. Her cheeks were blushed with the november kiss
of cooling night, and light of the moon as it dodged the racing clouds above,
shone in her coal black eyes as if they were marbles. Her lips moved little
more than the width of a hair, but no more was needed for the words that she
spoke.
"I still love you, dear."
I
wept as I reached to hold her close.
RKW - 08/09/88