A Time...

To The Lady on the Train,

I have traced the lines of you - I have followed all of the angles and curves that are your shape.

I have fallen through the constellations of the freckles on your skin, been held aloft by the tumble and fall of your curls and been drawn in my the feel of the palm of your hand on the back of my neck.

I remember the soft of your cheek on the back of my hand and my forehead pressed to the small of your back.

I remember the sound of your sigh across white sheets and the way your body tensed and relaxed at the same time - a turning toward me and a tender yet hungry kiss.

I remember wet hair, crossed legs and coffee - soft brown eyes and body lotion. I remember bending to kiss the inside of a knee, a falling back to welcome me - beackoning me - to explore you one more time.

I remember your whisper in my ear and our fingers entwined - pinned to earth and soaring.

I remember the gravity of you and the way to fill a room and the way light changes.

You are the center. You carry my heart.

The Man in the Station