Lane chests lined with cedar are a fine place for linens, sheets I needled with thread, patterns that spoke the few words I did not dare, and that is where I must place them now. How many times did I lie on these, wrapped in your senses, steeped in the scent of us, never hating the morning light because it meant another chance at night with you? My naked came from inside, opening to you slowly risking your anger at reticence--- could you ever know what it cost me to even reach for your skin? But know this, even as I fold the sheets, sprinkle lavender and try to breathe us--- No one else will lie as we did, wrist crossed in sweet light, smiling in each others eyes, no one can touch the honey you made, no one can make me spill unexpected delight, and no one will ever find me nude in the morning and half so willing to leap without thought of how I might look, or how I may seem, or how difficult it would be to fold the sheets when we are nothing more than that look in my eyes when I smell cedar and herbs and know it...for you. by Lisa Shields
If you like my web page please sign the Guest Book!: |
Return To Front Page: Return To Featured Poet Index: |