Melted butter

 

The summer sun spreads

like melted butter,

sandwiching the sky

and the land below.

 

And I lay, thinking

of that face, that hair.

That smile caught

in glorious eyes,

the beauty that sways

inside the heart that stole mine.

 

And I'd gladly never

reclaim that heart as my own.

 

For that heart is a memory

forged from molten stone,

and belongs to her alone.

 

But if I was to break

this spell, then would the love

shower in warming rain,

or would fierce storms

throw their shade on me,

drench me from head to feet,

leave me in tears.

A seat at the table of grief?

 

So, I let the thoughts

never breach reality,

a beach never to feel its sea.

A shoreline

out of the waves' reach.

But I still leave the words

for you to feast, a meal fit

for a queen.

 

Table set, I walk away.

 

But then as a new dawning

sunshine beams down on me,

I feel again that pull of love.

But now I'm happy,

because my heart still beats.

And the heart of desire

can be replete,

knowing that someday

the plate will sit empty

when I return

to this seaside sanctuary.