(about 1992)
I know . . .
how profoundly it permeates,
as softly as a sail soaks the energy of a zephyr.
The love and longing in her suspended soul;
I know how she feels . . .
A luminescing light surrounds like a promise.
From a candle, the warmth of truth
filling the focus of her face.
Eyes wander to ponder.
The point of her pen daring, sharing.
The ink she can nearly taste,
drawing her thoughts to the page
as a vessel from the heart
casting a shadow; thinning
into the dark behind her.
She blinks.
Eyes close again,
a soft flash of a dream
touching her spirit
as she recalls
so many times . . .
the laughter; and she smiles,
the corners of her lips rise with her thoughts.
The soft chair around her . . .
and the sorrow; she still smiles,
her closed eyelids
fail to hold back her tears now.
The warmth of the flame ahead
folds loving arms around her.
She opens her eyes to the light
and still remembers . . .
her words become . . . endearment.
I know how she feels.
