Monday, January 5, 2009


Were I a field of gold -
Would you kiss me as soft and move over me as silent,
letting your fingers run gently through my hair
and caress the vulnerability of my skin with brushstrokes
of gentleness’ warmth.

Were I a forest infinite –
Would you whisper secrets throughout my emerald leaves,
that swaying I swoon willingly into your embrace
conducting a soft symphony impassioned of souls entwined
within orchestral ardor.

Were I still water deep –
Would you stir the surface of my soul with a casual touch,
influencing the recklessness of my hearts abandon
to break upon the shores of our intimacy as we lie together
in a thundering sweet of
- Silence.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

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