Soul Mated

He liked to tease

Out

A strand

Or two

Or three

Strands of her hair…

Letting it coil around

His fingers

‘Till he released them

Springing ‘slow mo’ swinging…

He liked

The slow sloping curve

Of the nape

Of her naked neck — rising — grading

Turning touring

Gently up into

The squaring of her jaw

To its pert pointed chin…


She virtually ignored him — so used, as she was,

Over time

To his fingers playful poking…pinching…prodding…

‘Till she no longer could keep attention

To the other things needing doing…

His persistence

Thus persuaded…


I like the ways

(And I count them — finger by finger)

That he looks at me

I like the way his gaze / it lingers…

Pulling me to present

Perfect - front and centered…

(For we have lived so many other lives

Together)

I like the way

Each time

So familiar…

Wordlessly

He draws me in

To the circle of his embrace…

I like the way

He draws me in

To a wonder world

Of color

Painted in wide

Wild demonstrative

Brushstrokes…

I like the way

He draws me in

To each

Of the portals

Of his never ending soul…