Through the Glass, Gracefully

Do you remember
when the trees could speak
and we could carve
our initials on the wind?
Remember when we laughed
while having tea
on giant seashells
atop a flamingo’s wings
in the shadows of the stars,
how I kissed you
and wrapped all four
seasons around you
and how you kissed me back
while the high tide came
to expand my soul?
Remember when love
was as wet as paint,
how we always got
our clothes stained
as soon as we’d step out,
how we always
walked the streets
perfumed in color?
Remember when songs
were tangible,
how you would present me
with a freshly picked
bouquet of serenades
in the mornings?
Remember when fire
was as sweet as brown sugar,
how you probed my body
for a taste of it
each night?
Remember when I
was your wife,
how we rewrote history
and documented wars
and heroes’ lives
on blades of grass
and spiderwebs?
Remember when the subway line
made regular stops at Scion,
how we used to spend
weekends there?
Our precious children
would always bring back
smooth, shiny stones
to decorate our home.
Don’t you miss those times?
I swear, back then,
we were infinite.

I saw all these, once
in a dream within a dream
but I forgot everything
by the time I woke up.

Loving you made me remember.

6 thoughts on “Through the Glass, Gracefully

  1. Chills, chills and more chills. What a wonderful poem, sensual and sexy, beginning to end. Everything about this poem is perfect, such juxtaposition of thought, like, “trees could speak and we could carved our initials upon the wind,” such a beautiful way to say, what many do every day. Carve our intials on a tree, then like the wind, it is written into memory, wow. “Love wet as paint,” almost every line in this poem is a poem in itself. A poem to be proud of. Over and over, beautiful. Thanks for the goosebumps.

  2. “Don’t you miss those times?

    …I saw all these, once
    in a dream within a dream
    but I forgot everything
    by the time I woke up.

    Loving you made me remember.”

    Another wonderfully written poem from Her Orpiness. Makes me sad to say goodbye to February. πŸ™‚

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