A Longing For Springtime
How beautiful our love was
In the springtime of our lives.
How tender was your touch—
Your fingers caressed my body
As softly as a willow’s leaves
Brush the waters of a still lake
In the wake of a soft breeze—
I felt each ripple spread
Outward over me,
Consuming me with
The pulse of your passion.
The vessel I use to contain these
Precious memories keeps longing
To return to our springtime,
Where time stood still and our hearts
Remained impenetrable
To the outside world.
How cold this winter has become.
For Chris D. Aechtner's Free Verse for Winter Contest
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2011
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