Wednesday, June 5, 2013




soft –

not quite surreal

this day is


a gray day

a day to

cuddle up

on a sofa

as I steal some moments of

reading time

and thinking back

over the years

looking in the mirror

of seeing us

in bed or

on beaches

holding hands

kissing and laughing

perhaps me enjoying

just watching your eyes open

in the early hours

of another day -

we sleep in

before tea or coffee

on Sunday mornings

in Santa Fe

or Los Angeles or New York.

Later  now – memory

takes me admiring

the changing colors

of a sunset sky

on a hike

through mountains

and desert

then making love

mid-day in April

playfully beneath the innocent sky

near our black rock campground

walking distance from

El Malpais National Monument.

The badlands

is our resting place

for tasting the tastes

of lovers sweet kisses

and finding

long sought after companions.

I see discovery

on our long trek

along a dusty road

to the remote hot springs

across a broken wooden bridge

to a hand cut walk up

a hundred feet

above the creek.


Wet and beautiful

naked and shimmering

into the flowing heat

of warm bliss

you step

into my heart again

and again.

And the view


This is my ode

my whispering

into the night

that I should

live to walk

those simple trails with you

again -

back packs swollen with

camping gear – my lists

your truth

hearts on our shoulders –

eyes up to the radiant stars.

O the poetry of love

endless in it’s paths

a journey without compass

or map – we find our way

by touch and feel

and always kisses.

Doug Claybourne - A Suite of Poems for L.D. - 05.13 
Copyright © 2013 Doug Claybourne. All Rights Reserved.

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