Hearts fluttering
like the pages of a book
left on a table top
the wind reading
the story that is us
page by page
sometimes skipping bits
its lips moving silently
as it reads
until it stops
& sighs:
'Now, that...
that's...real love! '
*******
MUSIC FROM DARKNESS
The tips
of your fingertips
caresse me
we listening
to music in the dark
as if the air
itself were made from music
each touch
a cascade of strings
your fingertips tracing
chasing a fall of notes
that wash
(oh the ebb & flow)
across my face.
I feel you only
as music now
emanating from darkness
creating & uncreating
me
with the lightness
of your touch.
*******
GIFT
You give me
the gift
of your being
a woman
the gift
of your desire
the wanting of me
the gift
of this
body
as it flowers
full of love and laughter
the gift
of your nearness
each second
so new
I stupidly asking you:
'Why do you love me? '
you smiling:
'I just...do! '
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-story-that-is-us/
