It took me time to understand
I’d mistaken the flute as her voice
My awareness highlights her colors
to tingle emphatic – what we feel
All my memory is in her scent
clove-scented smoke from sacred temples
In glints of sunlight trapped in surface tension
atop the shimmer of water
Hot sand sculpts our contour
ablaze we burn
Huddled under soft down under colder stars
under one another under no pressure
Pondering only the oldest questions
I have nothing but the newest wonder
She breathes, while I catch my breath
and exhale sharply, she gasps
And then we wholly surrender
to a sigh and the rush
To a
hush
© Chagall 2014
Alphabet City 
[ Smiles ] Lovely poem!
Thank you, Renard. Very much appreciated. —Chagall
Gorgeous….Just Gorgeous 🙂
Thank you, Morgan. I appreciate your stopping by and commenting. —Chagall
I especially like how you ended it. Sharp inhales 🙂
Thank you, Taehreh. It’s been a while – good to see you again. Sharp inhales indeed! —C
🙂
The first stanza! Ugh! So good. So so good.
🙂
Thank you! Seriously, I almost stopped there when I first sat down. 🙂 —Chagall
Very nicely done. I especially loved the repetition used in these lines:
uddled under soft down under colder stars
under one another under no pressure
And loved all the contrasts – especially here:
Pondering only the oldest questions
I have nothing but the newest wonder
Thank you. =)
Thank you for the careful read and for the robust comments. I appreciate it very much. —Chagall