Lying next to you, fingers laced like the intricate bow of a coveted gift.
Tight and shining with hope.
Souls touching, drifting in and out.
Calm waves quenching white shore.
The four letters L-O-V and E lay flat faced before the throne of our hearts.
Verbal jesters unable to please the royalty of this coronation.
Your earthy fragrance twisting and curling through my senses.
Smoke seeking heaven through the limbs of my wisteria.
Bodies entwined and still I missed you.
Did my longing then foreshadow all the days
I would miss your face, your touch, your soul after?