Indian Summer
© by Eileen Carney Hulme
Like a deep blue wave
of passion
you shore into the room
where I sit waiting quietly,
open-booked.
We have moved through days,
loss, pain
to hold this moment,
this picture postcard seascape
of gentle harbouring.
You say
‘I knew you were here
I could smell you’
and effortlessly I sway
to seal my fate.
You taste of ocean,
avenues of grassy dunes,
like a magician
you pluck a tiny pebble
from my hair-
Ancient survivor, sun-kissed
on this summer afternoon,
unconditionally
I step out of my dress
into your dream.
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