A bridge of belonging yet seldom spanned
A soaring arrow
Sheathed, long and narrow, grounded, banned
A willing yearning
Rarely learning the depth, the breadth
A silent missing
Should be kissing the mouth, the neck
A burning ember
Do you remember the fire, the heat
A rough journey home
A breath my comb your gently blown wheat
An exhale in grandeur
Caressing your hand, your hair, your smile
A victorious battle
We’re back in the saddle of one for a while
By Royce Waxenfelter
11/18/14
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