When the morning light
First encircles the shoulders
Both are ecstatic
While wishing wishes
And chasing sleep
On hikes to ridges
With oaths we keep
The first promise dance
And Aft’ Party
With sand surrounding
On thrills at sea
Rememb’ring shared breaths
While leaking tears
Just offer your hand
All through the years
Oh to be
The skin exposed
Near cashmere coveringsIts defiant dare
Can draw the stare
And tempt the mind of thingsBut that which waits
Beneath the warmth
And silently bids “come”Is the skin
I wish to wear;
For whose dream-er I drum
I know a mantra or maybe a motto
Said in silence or sometimes aloud
Reminding what’s real and what isn’t whose
Sad at the start
The center convicting
By the end nothing’s certain except that all’s OK
Then begins the search for the voice that sounds the same as the one that I’d warned ought be a good traveller
And it becomes clear
It’s been there for some time on errands and visits and telling it’s truths and the truth
Now what say you voice of what’s real and what’s whose and is all in truth OK?