The Sun's Warm Graces
When the sun can be seen
shining down
through trees,
and the asphalt warms the palms
of pale feet,
Summer can be seen striding
gracefully
towards the closest river bank.
Merrily she smiles
reflecting back the sun's warm graces,
her hand locked tightly in mine,
our pale palms nestled
together
like two swollen hearts
on a softened bed of pine needles.
What does she see
when she looks into my eyes so softly?
When she gently kisses my palm
what does she feel?
Is it like a gentle breeze
blowing over the river there?
Or is it like a burning sun
that evaporates despair?
On the river bank, a robin rests
his beak turned towards the sea.
Deep inside,
as her lips meet mine,
a sun burns
Peacefully.
Copyright © Michael Schoeffel | Year Posted 2012
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