Chime

Like a chime of waking, marks the time I think of you
And though our worlds behold a distance
First an hour, then by two
To me, it never makes a difference
Whether skies are gray, or white, or match your eyes of blue
Or if the moment comes and goes in but an instant

To the chime of each arrival, eyes would rush to meet
Your words, regardless of the hour,
Whether it’s goodbye or greet
My words a vine, and you the bower
Coursing as if fingers on your spine beneath a sheet
As a bouquet of poems offered as a flower

With the chime of evening, when our moons are yet the same
Between the moments of departure
Where new messages remain
As if a kiss, or fragile art, your
Image lingers softly like a dream I can’t explain
For I an arrow, and, my dear, you are an archer

Like the chime of morning, are your lips upon my own
As if a breath of resurrection
Or the feeling like I’m home
Beholden to your fair complexion
In this crowded world where, evermore, you stand alone
My heart a clock that chimes for you with such affection

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Blossoms

There blossoms in her depth a fury
Chaos tethered by the reins of such a yearning soul
That sets her sun with such a hurry
There like shifting stars within a fire that she struggles to control

There, her veil of raven tresses
Hanging as the eve, or as a fog that meets the sun
That turns a stoic world to guesses
And the tourniquet upon my lips and heart to finally come undone

There blossoms in her eyes a wonder
Something gentle hiding neath her armor always worn
That like a wave, would pull me under
Leaving me benighted, on a knee, her name a vow I’ve gladly sworn

There, beyond the stretching miles
Hidden, yet revealed, like an eclipse in summer skies
It pulls, like gravity, her wiles
Like a set of strings so when she beckons, how could I refuse to rise?

There blossoms in her face a beauty
Nyx upon the earth, beset with oceans in her eyes
And calling, like a desert, ever to me
My lips an errant pilgrim set to pray within the temple of her sighs