Our Song of Songs
My lover is to me a cluster of henna blossoms
from the vineyard of En Gedi.
Song of Songs 1:14 NIV
he is vulnerable
with me.
he is charming, handsome —
his silver hair and bedroom eyes.
i press my nose
into the featherbed of his chest —
the mix of his scent with cologne
his arms encircle me
embrace only me
the ripples of henna
paint a vista
for my love and me —
our song of songs
blossoms
we’ve left youth behind
embracing the divine.
he knows me —
the cluster of our fingers
singularity, our intimate jokes
and home sweet home.
after the sprig of coolness
excites and weaves
into the dendrites and sinews
of our life,
comes the wintergreen crest
of the ocean’s shiver,
climatic and familiar
rock of our houseboat —
survivor of tempests.
j’aime mon mari —
love defies the language
and sound barrier, the dangerous
reefs. communication,
as our pressed together crowns
on downy pillows,
speaks with its own lavender ink.
6/10/2019
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