Those Eyes


What would I find in your tightly coiled mind,
A sheltered, enclosed world so private to you.
Lead me my loved one, into the lanscape of your dreams,
Through summer showers, rainbow kisses and sunbeams.
Sparkling, smiling eyes hide this secret paradise,
You make me feel so toasty warm, cosily wanting.
Gently embracing I smell the freshness of rapture,
An illusive ecstasy, a snowflake whisper, impossible to capture.

I’m flying, in the literal sense, sort of sideways breaststroke.
Slomo – on my side – left arm still, straight and forward,
Right arm doing the motion. An occasional kick of the feet,
In this nutrient filled, pure and distilled, oxygen ocean.
In full control. Is this the flight of my whole, or only my soul?
So real to me, not even strange, I can fly anytime, anywhere.
Except – into my honey’s world.
A world with a population of one. So clean and uncrumpled.

As the moons of separate, isolated, worlds arise
And suns are asetting. I am lying beside her. We’re spooning.
I can’t see her face but eyes are smiling, I breathe her life-force.
Taste the sexy mustiness of forthcoming sleep.
I’m ready to fly again but instead, I dive deep,
Deep into her dream doorstep thoughts and see myself.
But nothing else. We are walking, holding hands, into her world,
I am behind us and watch us disappear.

Flying invisible into a broken, disabled, brain damaged Iraq,
Digesting horrors with distaste, ones I wouldn’t normally taste.
With a magical breaststroke, I was back with my soulmate.
She sat in bra and unseen panties, at the table, stirring two coffees
I kissed her neck, her back and the backs of her hands,
Took my coffee, sat opposite, and stared at this tousled apparition.
This impossible inscrutability. She had me.
We sat in silence, sipping, seeking tendrils of thought.
Thoughts touched, electrifying, boggling of the minds.
I wanted to fly but sat stock still, looking into those eyes.
Those eyes – a gateway – my gateway – I love those eyes!!
I love you.

My Dear Rusty, I do apologize for my prolonged absence, but I just haven't been myself or feeling very communicative since my sister Frances died one month ago today. Maybe no excuse for staying away from here, but that's just the way I've been.

Maybe when we lose someone we love dearly it makes us kind of afraid to mingle with others we love? Afraid of the loss? God only knows, I just know that losing a sister is probably the most painful thing I've endured in this lifetime.

I'm very glad to find a veritable feast of your poetry here on my return, Sir Rusty, thank you very much.

Love and Many Hugs,

Alice