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You fill my days with balmy laughter
over cups of Colombian Dark,
watching the morning fawns frolic
as we share our latest prose.
We dilute older memories
until they lose their savor;
my construction-paper past
fades beneath your radiant glow.
We cast away painful regrets
and lay to rest old injuries
beneath layers and layers
of fresh vibrant paint.
We prepare the pallet
of our tomorrows
with a full, eager brush
and a large unsullied canvas.
Your fingers whisper furtive desires
along my passive jaw
as you gently
drape my hair behind my ear.
My grateful heart responds
with perfumed pulse;
I clasp your acquiescent hand
espousing you with my hungry gaze.
But, during the moments that you’re away
the very air is inadequate.
I crave your eyes, your visage, your breath,
the fragrance of your locks against my face.
‘Til, your busy clatter about the house
returns, and knits a cozy quilt of contentment
provoking my covetous desire
to host your placid spirit forever.
Felicia Stone Revised February 18, 2010)
Here, I share, with stark honesty, my life.