POETICAL ME

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 Essence Her, Mine
Beyond four borders of my village I wait
impatiently

My concrete jungle of a world, hers a cottage
in the Shire

Closing my eyes I am there with her essence
and dream I do standing, barely, for my legs
have become rubbery and weak

I sip red wine from her lips and intoxicate
myself with the Golden goblet of her

Crazy, yes I know, but denial would be unforgiving
to my very need, her vintage
Savoring every drop, concerned I would drink too fast
Become drunk I would, hungover but very much in love

Finally to taste what it is to feel invincible
with her in hands that trembled for such ecstasy

Her essence mine to drink much of and sleep,
as the child we would come to have one day
Dreaming sweet dreams, a smaller version of her
peering at the moon from bedroom window

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