I'm taking a momentary break from the usual storytelling for a poem. My heart is drenched and drunk from last night. Poetic justice is the only fair way to assess my feelings right now.
With shaky hands I skip stones across a quiet lake,
Mist laying like a perfect sheet across the water
I cannot see their journey each time I throw
But each graze matches the beats from my heart
Walking away, heels creating a hollow echo on the pier,
I rub the leftover stones in my pocket,
I don't want to waste them
They're safe and warm there
The sun peeks through the trees,
A muted sangria sky pulling my head to face the path
There is comfort with each step I take towards you
And a gentle breeze guides my way
When I meet you the veil opens before my eyes
And only merely I peek to find clarity in your gaze
But the warmth that opens your face is inviting
Behind my gossamer eyes I embrace it
A head on your shoulder, my fingertips trace your spine
In an effort to find how you hold yourself up for me
And your head cranes to find the hollow of my neck
Gentle touches that bring us together
My hand in yours, you share this warmth
And it brings me to a special place
Where nature's pull binds us in comfort-
Where there is serenity, electric and true
The stones in my pocket wait for release
So I put one in your hand
Our steps in cadence meeting at the end of the pier
You throw it with care, and ease
And it matches my heartbeat in perfect time
Eyes closed I reach for my own
Hoping to mimic that rhythm
I cast it along the water
The sun glistens as it finds its own beat
But perfect on its own
And in your eyes I see it clearly and we both agree
The energy is perfect
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