Come To Me Again

Her hands were small
Almost tiny in mine.
When they moved on me
I was a man transfixed
In that moment.

Her eyes were flame
But not in a searing way.
They burned as does the sun
In a September sky
Generous and filled with promise.

Her lips were soft and gentle
Warm
Open
When I leaned into her.
Her mouth nourished me
With the passions of life.

Her long, auburn hair was a banner
And would shine
In the morning sun
Would luster by moonlight.
Her tresses
Would mantle me in each embrace.

To touch her was to know
The firmament of heaven
The tides of seas
The lofty climes of rare air
The purity of snows
And the musk of earth.

A man may no more keep her
As he might catch the breath of butterflies
Or the majesty of lions.

She is singular.
There is no other.
And like the amazement that comes
With undulating Auroras
I may only dream
She might come to me
Again.