To Love A Philomath

Through the white ruffled cotton sheets I could descry.

The seductive look through your bangs, left eye.

Like a hueless painter's pallet your skin curiously contrasts.

Its luminary in nature, like a candle's life that always lasts.

Tendencies to parse, pick apart to memorise.

Every limb, skin segmant, curve up to your piercing eyes.

Waxy candle created rivulets forming like a lava flow fusing to the holder.

Horizontally genuflecting, exposing the benifits of being older.

My forlorn feelings filled up most fractions of a friable heart.

To feel plenary would be to the contrary of what it was in the start.

The soft susurration of wind passing through my hair.

Looking afar, into the panopy of granite filled air.

Words spoken into envelopes sent directly to empyrean with two stamps.

Broken I feel bent, badgered by my inability to revamp.

My hand feels slowly across your shiny new face.

The love once had, gone............without a trace.

Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.
Henry Van Dyke