Some go to the harbour
for the buoys
or gaze out to sea;
others fly to crested castles
for knights hoping
for a favour, to be won;
we go down to the undercliff
where the spray
catches us, reeling.
Landed, quiet and still
wrapped in you, I feel
your breath on my shoulder;
each exhalation full of
fragments of dreaming;
every inhalation drawing
inspiration for more.
Our limbs become branches
of a single tree,
acquiring leaves;
and stars.
2016 © Andie Davidson
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment. If you choose to login - or register - on this site, a non-tracking cookie will be stored on your computer but your email address will never be published or shared.