Poem 1 (Collection 4)

I think of you;
yes, I do.
When the summer breeze runs through these pastel curtains and
ruffles the pages of an open book,
caresses my skin with memories
of your fingertips sliding down my hand and into a clasp,
of your stubble nuzzling it’s way around my nape and lodging your chin on my bony shoulders—
I could have sworn I felt your breath strike me across my chest.
But it is only the summer breeze
shifting shapes and memories.
I think of you.
Yes, I do.

Micro Poetry 75

I can hear the summer laugh
on the other side of the lake
as a full moon glides over my head
with stars stuck on the full length
of her skirty sky.
I think of you
in moments such as these and
of what we could have been.

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