Softly caressing April’s dew
a hazy sun
wanders from twilight
and sleepily
you snuggle deeper into
blanket warmth.
Carefully shaded
as if by love itself
the helpless stares
seem only a nightmare now
never again to shatter
such gently innocence.
And yet
I know
at next meeting
our eyes will share
that awareness
that torture.
But, for now
I can savor this moment
as you lie
curled in careless fantasy
fondle you
as we frolicked
those endless days
hued in autumn’s oft-scorned plea.
Or take your sleepy hand
as we skipped over spring-stung fields
bursting joys
for fleeting lovers
passing by.
Joys that even now
flicker in your waking eyes
to lure me into
my memories
where there are no doubts
no fears.
But the cold grows with waking
and in your pained eyes
I see
you know
I must leave.
James K. Richardson