A romantic edge,
forest nearby,
her smile,
a sunlit afternoon.
We would be serious
inside a nurturing
state of mind.
There was peace in our
quiet interlude
than I had felt
in my life.
I couldn’t imagine
ever losing that vision,
hers is a natural elegance
like a well written epic.
Perhaps Yves Saint Laurent
or as breathtaking as
an Emily seeming romance.
You know Dickinson,
despite the clever wording
inside her morose
was a delicious yearning.
We could spend hours
explaining our faith
in the reason of love
in a summer afternoon.
I miss the breeze
the soft touch of her hands
when I could trace her forehead
it seemed to be forever.
We both knew it might
never be,
like the tragedy of love
in an unrequited scene.
Oh to allow reflection,
bring us back to the
blankets and baskets
of sharing our harmony.
© Scott F. Savage 3/2020
for Zelda, may she always know.
apersonaljourney - stories of love 