Inflection

The tone in her voice as she coiled by my side.
the textured soft skin and her silken lips shied,
Each mumbled breath as she slept unaware,
her limber caresses and careless free care:
these are the visions that take up my view;
all I can see are these visions of you.

Tossed to the staircase all those layers and clothes.
and there in the mirror your mouth and your nose;
the ten thousand errands you've sent me out on,
off to the baker's or else to the pond.

So many memories fresh in my mind,
not one I'm willing to leave left behind:
Nakedly bathing, or combing your hair,
soothing your ankles, your shoes by the chair.

No one single thought makes it all the way clean,
but rather the gift is a runaway scene
collectively telling this story of us
the reason we offered that ride in our bus.

No one could tell us the danger we'd face,
the problems we heard were just some old case,
and now I am thinking what if and why her;
I wonder and wonder, and it seems a blur.

What if we hadn't just opened that door?
What if for some time we could just have some more?
What if and why and a thousand mind games,
and no one remembers their faces or names.

runningturtle87