To Simpler Times...

 
When rose petals
distilled to their essence
so only scent remains;
when fingertips touch naked skin, leave fiery trails;
when you hum softly, unaware...

that's when I recall the quiet in-between moments.

Evenings poured slowly, like molasses.
Times spent savoring the flavor of orange
marmalade and buttered scone
at silent dawn,
teacup in hand.

Lovers turned thieves of kisses
 and embraces,
   implied promises kept,
       or not.

Dawn is the time to mourn
what we once had.

And still you turn that smile on me,
a touch of melancholy,
of heedless dreams and stormy seas
and pain
and drought.

And I recall that we once shared all that,
and more.

I watch your folded sleeping form
the space between breaths no longer seen
nor heard.

It's you and I again, my friend.
A few more years,
a restless tune

deferred