Tuesday, February 15, 2011

like living braille under my fingertips...

and in my dreams
there is nothing wrong with my eyesight.

alone with you -
my heart is in my mouth,
can you taste it?

if i offered you
my love
would you waste it??

i am still wearing
my heart on its sleeve
& since that first time we kissed:

i'm even
having it
tattooed upon my wrist.

we are awake now,
it is morning.
You in my arms,
your breath upon my neck.

the touch of your skin
upon mine,
is this how it feels for a lizard
to lie upon
sun-warmed rock?

i attempt (once more)
to read the freckles
on your perfect shoulders,
like living braille
under my fingertips...

before your
disarming  / sleepy smile
makes me

we kiss
and kiss
and kiss again,
liquid lips becoming one.

i am no longer
a stranger in a new town,

all at once
welcome, lost
& homeward bound.

as you touch my face
something primal,
yet gentle
stirs in my very core.

am i out of sight
or just
out of mind?

once again,
you have performed
the miracle of miracles

& restored sight to the blind.

(c) Brent M Harpur, 2011.

"There is a budding morrow in midnight / there is a triple sight in blindness keen." (Keats)

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