I wish you could feel me when I reach out
and touch your vision, feel me as I feel
you—my chilled fingers growing warm, then hot
with fragile passion, as if fire concealed
in your blushed face had leapt forth and through me.
Have I told you how I watch your tan hands,
marvel at their gentle ballet, their free
dance through your sunlit hair? How your grace stands
before the universe as Athena
once stood on Olympus, arms spread like beams
of light, blessing her city with omens
of wisdom. Have I told you how in dreams
you sit with me by calm sea at dawn? Come
to me at night, whisper how I'm your home?
Roger Armbrust
July 31, 2014
