Ebb Tide

Here,
is where I am,
and where I’ve come to see you,
while the light remains,
and there is time enough
to embrace it;

here,
where the ebb tide leaves
its mark on the breathless
face of passion,
and the day lays bare
the trembling world before us;

here,
where a blue wave burns
its fingers on the shingle of a shore
it can’t hold onto,
and where you walk alone
in December’s dark light;

here,
where you ponder
the graceful dexterity of limbs
no longer clinging to the rainy edges
of a mountain, and where the glow
of youth has faded from your hair;

here,
where you are mulling over
the marvel of your marvelous body
and its slow descent from heaven
to this gold labyrinth
that has stolen all your dreams;

here,
where you live a life
of rigid self-control, and are less
dismissive now
of those dizzying desires
driving fireflies to their doom;

here,
where you fear the spectre
of some dark unending nothing,
and where you strive sometimes
to unfreeze that flowing world
beneath your veil of ice;

here,
where you are sitting
among the rocks
in your blue robe, and only
two small buttons away
from baring all;

here,
where my heart is a wind
wrapping itself around the dead heat
from your marriage bed,
and where everything will happen
if you only give the word;

for here
is where I am,
and where I’ve come to meet you,
while the light remains,
and you are ready now
to enflame it.


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