By Cire Nehtrow
Date: 2002 Dec 19
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The Tide

Brushing close your scent descends
Into my breath and memoried heart.
Straining passions ache to lend
To reason all its missing parts.

Your touch against my clothed skin,
The soft warm tremor of your voice,
War with temperance's armor thin,
And selfless vows of prudent choice.

Your lips of firm yet supple pink
Plead to dance and swim with mine.
The bottle pours, the glasses clink
We circle 'round to lap the wine.

Comma, asterisk, or ampersand,
What quotation will our memories gate?
When all seas rise and bury land,
By stars will ships still navigate?

Tides, typhoons, and tidal pools,
The salted spray of roaring waves.
All this and more in loving fools,
And fools who lived and loved and gave.