There is a landscape

That marks the

crossroads of our hearts.

Conclaves of little

pickled elder memories

That have been present

for both you and me.

Footprints left in mud

After one has step up and above

to find the promise-land

that has now been flooded

with a feeling.

Not too sure of what it is

we’ve been dealing.

But the cards attest.

They give us rest.

Because the feeling is real.

Enough to heal the surface wounds.

Enough to carry

injured footman through lagoons.

Something that we can grasp.

Somethings we won’t ask

While we press our tongues

On teacups

Taking little sips

Gentle enough to

blow across

dandelion grasslands

That surrounds us

much like sand.

For miles runs a river,

blossoms combs

and foliage is speckled along

The horizon

wildlife roams endlessly.

And Love grows effortlessly.

All about is spread

green upon green

Valleys glossy

with morning dew

obscuring views.

Mountains snowy and pure.

The ocean of leaves

plays harpsichords

before us.

The twinkling lights strike

like matches in the sky.

Blankets of indigo

glittered and gilded

By stars

Who have answered

the questions that

You and I

Have asked of them.

There is a landmark

that points to the

crossroads of our hearts.

We see our fingertips

and pursed lips

that have collided

like the Big Bang

in the city skyline.

Collapsing like lungs

taking in pure pleasures of passion

and the way

that our hearts were

simply,

classically,

and untraditionally

fashioned for one another.

My complex lover.

Because the morning

light on your face

makes me want to embrace

your heart more and more.

Releasing all this

old grieving to allow

for the new seasons

to take a step on the floor.