Selfish

I watched your tongue slide between your lips
And thought of clouds drifting.

Of all I remember
Why is it that I recall?
It ferments in the wine cellar of memory.

You speak to my heart
Though you have been silent many years
And generations shall molder
Before I hear you again.

I remember whispered promises
Breaths of longing
Gasps of desire
Inscribed by indelible quill of spirit.

You would wait
Arms open
To receive me
Like a silver maple
Opens to November winds
Though those winds strip its last leaf.

I took more than I gave.

I have little to comfort me
These empty nights.
What most moves me is
Remembering open arms.

And your tongue slipping between your lips
Like clouds over wheat fields.