Sycamore Island

So many golden days
layered between today
and our sweet afternoon
on the fallen sycamore—
the one so large
we picnicked on its spine
and sprawled out
across its crumbling contour —
and however trite it sounds
to say time stood still, it did—
and for awhile
we floated on an island
made of love and light—
and you found comfort in me
while I found comfort in you
and no one in the world
was more content than we
who’d sailed so long
to get this close—
to come this far.

 

 

 

DeMaris
2-21-17

 

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