Love’s a breeze

I shouldn’t be grateful for a breeze’s beauty,
the way she refreshes me, cools a fevered mind,
tingles the skin with playful ignorance of her sensuality.
An accident of proximity means I am caressed by her grace and easeful joys,
although as sure as death,
I shall not think of a still day,
without her, yet

she fingers her way through memories,
images reopened to her nuanced voice
embraced by her tender kiss,
I listen for laughter as she swirls around others,
rippling shirts and skirts in equal measure,
stroking palms outstretched, tracing timelines
in a wonderful attention to detail;
I marvel at her amelioration of the sun’s most burning stare
and how she enriches darkness with a whisper

Twirling thoughts in autumnal melancholy,
afeared of her sudden disappearance,
rationally chilled by the improbability
of such happiness, I watch her
make her way
out
to
sea.

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