Crow's Feet

Has time 

slowed down, 

even during

the skirmishes, 

our time 

neither 

diminishes. 

It keeps 

flying 

along.

+++++++

Clarity, 

I see you, 

your thick hand, 

the wrinkles 

swirling around 

your knuckles. 

The crows feet 

that I saw the first time the door opened and you let me in.

I know the size 

of your nipples, 

their red 

and pink, 

the way your breaasts 

hang, 

the smell 

of your skin.

I can trace 

the curves 

from ankle 

to hips 

around the ear 

to lips, 

one rye thin, 

the other 

protruding. 

The way I make them smile.

Standing on our beach, 

the waves sound similar 

but smaller. 

It’s not the same 

your hands in mine, 

your lips not on mine, 

nor the smell.

Inside the blue 

irises of your eyes, 

fearing your words, 

or just the smell, 

touch, 

color mixed 

with waves.

The black birds have come in from the cave. 

The sun’s warmth has passed beyond the hills. 

I must leave 

this beach, 

the pitifully closest 

I can 

come 

to you.

+++++++

I want someone 

who is 

willing 

to experience, 

to make opinions, 

to be wrong, 

and always surprised.

Can we be as a river that flows both forwards

and backwards 

at the same time?