And then like
The children that
We are we
Wandered through the
Forest of your
Apartment drinks in
Hand and eventually
Landed on a
Bed of moss
And pillows where
I saw the
Sun glint in
Your brown eyes
And I leaned
In and tasted
The soft dewy
Sweetness of your
Lips feeling your
Hands pull me
Closer falling into
You like a
Leaf lands upon
The forest floor
Oh you take
Photographs capturing time
In windows you
Catch the blink
The wink and
The think me
I see metaphors
Like’s and as’s
Turning one thing
Into another we
Both paint worlds
Yours in an
Instant and me
Spinning threads into
Things called poetry
I never tell
Someone that I
Love them in
Order to
I simply tell
Someone that I
Love them because
I do
It’s the quietest
Gift to give
Yet the one
That is never
Cast aside
Though often regifted
The day starts
Here sleepy like
A dewy pasture
In Wisconsin full
Of calling birds
Lovers stir slowly
Like cream in
A hot cup
Of coffee being
Absorbed in my
Arms like a
Letter in envelope
Music begins to
Play in the
Flat next to
Me caressing my
Ears like your
Fingers did outside
That cafe in
Barcelona when you
Told me that
You loved me
When we met
You were like
My first bike
Full of wee
And ahh as
We rode over
Hill and valley
Then after time
You were like
The small boat
I used to
Paddle about my
Life and now
You’re like the
Smoky and smooth
Whiskey that I
Slowly sip before
I retire for
The night making
Me all cozy
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 