To Hold Her Hand Again

20170503_163308

It was when he reached for her hand that her blushing began,

and he was never afraid, he never

pulled back,

from her shaking spirit

instead

embracing her until

the waves of fear passed away.

She surrendered

to his courage,

but they both surrendered really.

He never regretted his dedication

to her, instead he lived for her smile,

and for the chance

to hold her hand again.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

Advertisements

It Was Spring Now

20170503_164223

She walked in the green fields now remembering the curves

of her hand in his, and those times he gave her

a wildflower to tuck

behind her ear,

with the smell of trees

and the beautiful deluge

of robin song,

it was spring now

and she dreamt

of smelling his neck

and the protection

of his umbrella

as they discovered the earth

all over again,

walking in the park.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

The Quiet Moments of Winter III

100_5679

In the moonlight through our window, we hold each other closer

breathing in her hair, I can see the outline of trees covered

again. She whispers in the night, “I’ve always wanted

to be held by you…..” I drift off dreaming

of the wind carrying us away.

Is love softer in the winter snow?

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

He Knew He Was Her Storm

100_5345

Having seen his own ice melting, the frozen within,

he knew he was her storm, with both peace

and yet carrying a raging blizzard.

She loved him, that much was certain,

and her fire kept him sane,

showed him how to pray really,

and one day as the snow fell

he knelt on the rock, and prayed

he would always be worthy

of her honor.

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

In the Light that is Barely Dawn

100_5652

A thin layer of ice on the corners of the window now,

as you gently move the curtain aside, she stirs

next to you under layers, lumps under her mother’s quilt

as you see only a hint of the sun, and you realize

there is joy in the mystery of another day,

a sparkle returns

to your eyes again, as you stretch

and your wings extend, covering

your Love, with a beautiful shadow

and you begin forming –

shaping the words

of a new poem, in the light

that is barely dawn.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies