Sometimes I grow weary, of marriage in the mundane.
I want to remember full moons, and the washing of water in the after glow of love.
I want to dream in his arms, under stars, kissing through deep waters and not the shallow edge of maybe.Call me crazy. I want to sit for a long while, without the ringing of bells and whistles and the chirping of cell phones. No rushing to answer with fingers, the urgency of nothing special shouting loudly “Where are you?”
I want to lay beside waters, silent and sure of the gentle harmony of love.
In slow deep breaths, I want to plunge into poetry and music and sweet tea. I want to languish and be fed fresh peaches off the tree. All of me sticky sweet, with love and music and peaches and promises.
I dream in his arms, a thousand kisses of love.
Through 7336 days since we said “I do” how many times have we dreamed in one another’s arms? In longing, in contentment, in surety, in fear and angst of soul and desire?
In another time this will not matter. The tree’s we lay under may have fallen. This place of home will not care that we have left it. Barren hills without children conceived, will leave our legacy to the earth by which we will lay. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust we will go.
I am laying in his arms and I am dreaming. I see his arms, tanned and strong and I lean in to kiss the salt. It nourishes my soul.
I want to take slow steps to the end.