An Adoration of Ideas

I read dog-eared books of poetry,

sketching fabric lives, in their fashion, 

As fate, and fortune . . . elaborately free,

threading my truth in wonders. . .

I trace these stories over your palm,

Lace garlands of fragrant thought for your hair,

bowed with glided joy, and lyrical soul.

Humming. . . intimate, warm into your neck,

I adorn the curve of your ear, with an adoration of ideas,

Treasure, plucked from cradled arms, and lettered gods.

A tango of anticipation, swerve my lilting lips,

A pleasurable, rocking, bobbin lathe of words,

Pleasurable for they journey to your eyes.

As I read for you Cielito,

Tie my verse between two Ceiba trees, 

Our serene hammock of swaying contentment. . .

Together, joined in rhythmic discourse,

beneath the heaven of our twilight sky,

known, to only you and I.

Time

Time. . .

holds us all

so jealously

in the swing 

of her dance. . .

When we are apart. . . 

dressed
in the formal skin

of our work 

our obligations, 

We feel a longing 

for each other. . .

stretched out

over moments,

widening lips

without a voice

an unwinding road 

without signs

When we are together, 

some, might say,

we lost track of time, 

but I think 
it was time 

who lost track of us. 

As we live 

blissful eternities

in the urgent embrace

of each deep, 

lingering kiss. 

An evening disappears 

quick as an echo 

in the grey stone streets. . .

Querida. . . come time travel with me