But for your smile
No warmth nor splinter
Of dappled light would penetrate
This forest walk
Within my thoughts
Your outstretched arms
Are the naked boughs that cradled
Passion's fledgling wings
Above the littered floor where dreams
Like brittle leaves were strewn
Through angry gales
And stinging rain the nest,
Unmoved, holds true and
So ever will remain.
And, to my mind, your skin
Is as the clinging moss
That drapes the bough
And shimmers, wet with dew,
So soft I'd never dare, for fear,
Caress with such callused hands
Your arching limbs perchance
They tear or rip its fragile beauty.
To this dreamland tapestry I wove
Your scent is of the purple blooms
Of heather sent downwind from
The rugged moors that
One day we'll walk as good friends together.
