I remember

I remember this:
the purling taste of her, her skin,
vanilla swirl and cinnamon,
and then her scent, like sandalwood
and sun,
and how it made me weak-kneed,
wanting to be folded up and lost
within that mystery, that space,
that resting place between her shoulder
and her ear.
I call to mind her waiting hand,
her golden fire lit embrace,
her fondling smile,
and how she'd make
a cradled traced caress along my cheek,
And I remember now
her low enfolding voice,
her havening of me in supple, yearning arms.
when, after sunset, stillness billowed out
its hushes in the dark,
and sailed its velvet courses
through the night.
And I remember how in bed,
when thinking I was deep in sleep
she’d bring her lips an aching inch from mine
and whisper barely audibly, as if in prayer,
my name and say “my darling, darling,
I am yours. I am.
I am”.