Carry Me To Our Private

Carry me to our private
bed of white and light,
lay me down into
the escape portal
from the world;
my soul, revive.

Take me to where
the stars are floral,
where we’ll rearrange
the constellations
to suit our tomorrows.

My love, let me feel
your flesh press
into mine;
cover me with your love,
take me away
into your eyes.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Touch Me Then (With Audio)

When my childlike giggles
and our mutual dimples
subside, let our eyes
shift and open the portals
to offer upon ethereal wings
the lift or dive
beyond this world… 

Touch me then
with your unspoken, 
with that lingering
forever-teetering
in how to express
the flooding emotions,

then let them pour out
and crash into mine,
meeting halfway
as a galactic tide,

then touch me slowly, 
touch me tender, 
in breaths without whispers,
touch me for a thousand
forevers.

Touch me like a butterfly
to nectar, 
touch me like the petals
of two reaching
flowers
at the moment
they finally brush; 
touch me as if it were a sin
to rush.

Touch me
without ever looking
from my eyes; 
touch me then
with only
your light…. 

Poem, image, and audio ©LauraDenise

Perhaps True Love is Not

Perhaps true love is not
long-lost soulmates reunited
or two hearts shaped
puzzle-piece- or locket-and-key-like;

perhaps it’s not just one
but any two who
can fit just right
if each only trades in
fears for freedom
to rise as shared light,

and in that lift,
opposite of fall,
that is when hearts
are melted and forged

into the fitting pieces
or key and lock
to open the chest
and remember
what is love,

and what if love’s touch is not
a lightning spark but the hearth
that holds the flame’s warmth
long into the darkest hours,

or the faithful embers
staying aglow
for the return of air
to ignite the soul.

Beyond The Window

Looking out my bedroom window
a long while, late on a spring day,
opposite weather inside of me,
a seductive swirling veil of gray, 

to choose which to follow,
if either non-path at all, 
takes the breaking of the trance
when both come so subtly to call.

I didn’t wait for the new day;
I chose the remainder at hand,
clipped the leash to the too-excited dog,
laced my sneakers and simply began. 

I let a trickle of hope in
on the way to the pond
to stir the stagnant layer
hovering weightless
but still clouding
my heart.

Perhaps I could find 
beauty or love or both
in my always-open lens 
that filters and feeds
light to soul. 

I did. For it is always there. 
Mother Nature never folds 
her extended arms;
She unconditionally heals,
cares. 

I knew a new day
would soon come
tomorrow, 
and all would 
feel better again, 

but the thing about
choice and action is
that Momentum 
can also be a dear
friend. 

I did not wait for New Day.
I drank the sunset medicine instead. 
It brought me soft romance
and a happy non-end. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Yellow Blooms

Yellow and white wild blooms
I insist remain nameless
I contemplate picking for you
to arrange in sill sunlit,
but I can’t do it;
I keep them rooted
but skim their scent
over fingertips,
and a fallen one tuck
in a long, silky tress,
face tilted up,
b r e a t h i n g  i n
this existence
in yellow floral dress;
the sun kisses shoulders,
and I sense your jealously
in our cottage
working remotely.
Heading back,
I hear the kettle whistling
cheerfully for me….

Feel Me

Close your eyes,
and I will, too;
feel me there,
this touch brushing 
slowly over you,
soft as an exhaled breath
on flesh…
fingertips, lips, 
smoothly caress, 
the gentlest 
skimming,
hair trickling 
across chest,
whispers float
into your ear,
melliferous voice
delivering the elixir 
to each fear, 
sweet everythings
that reach
with flowing, warming heat
every last heart-ailment 
to heal.

Feel
me. 

Into yours, 
my fingers weave;
hands clasp
organically.
So easy
it is 
to love,
to release
all inhibitions:
free fall
into me. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

I.love.Leo.Sayer! I forgot all about him! Been belting this out in the car lately, on repeat…

Ancient Tongues

I replayed your words, 
a favorite message,
though I’ve memorized 
the way it was delivered.

You did not seed it in me,
but something deep inside,
in a place never reached,
heard it and recognized
the voice, ancient souls
reunited, a stirring, 
an awakening, a rising. 

Something must’ve happened, though,
in the transfer.
You must’ve given too much of yourself
to my ever-after. 

Our once-upon-a-time now birthed,
I give back to you in equal measure.
Restored.
But now we each
have more.

Come, darling, take my hand.
Write with me. Let’s never end

this love story. 
Together. 

Our effervescence
need not be
evanescent. 
We can live
forever

as long as 
we have tongues
to dip and plunge

into the well,
we’ll leave our ink
upon the world. 

And when our bodies
become one
with the earth, 
we’ll find each other
as light
and rebirthe 

again. 
As one. 

Beyond the Tuscan sun. 

Hands in Time

My hand finds yours;
feel my fingers
slide and weave
into place,
your loving anchor
to steady you
when fears cause thoughts
to race.

My hand is in yours;
there is nothing
we cannot endure
and use
to manifest it
into something more,
good and pure,
repurposed anew.

My hand is in yours,
only changing slightly
in physical form
as we age,
but the love transmitted
only strengthens
with each adjoined
passing day.

My hand in yours,
in one of the ways
we become one,
so natural
and effortless
the genuine home
welcome.

One day our love
will transcend this life
and these hands,
but then our light
can fully fuse
as we finally rise together to
begin.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise