Poetry of place

It is endless

This beckoning, this returning

And deep

Makes it hard to get past

And keep

Some equilibrium

What comes next in this march of time

Her footsteps on the path to home

Silhouetted in the moonlit dark

A lithe figure in her favourite blue

Come to enchant and inhabit

This cellular form

A face full of promise and evolved beauty

Eyes of black pools

With everything in them

A soul to encourage, to honour

This tender heart

Burn warm with love

Like the reddest rose

Between her lips

Where the breath of life hangs

Alluringly

And I

Looking on

However else could it be

If not hand in hand we go