Eight Years On

A veiling smile and hazel eyes.

A nose I pecked a hundred times.

The curve of her back, explored

By my lips. An ache returns.

A solitary piece to complete the mosaic.

Burred edges reveal a glimpse inside

The tint of a hidden treasure,

Beckoning attention and warmth.

The fog clears and snatching hands reach out,

Clawing relentlessly, pulling at her, wanting a piece of something...

The fire within illuminates.
Holding it back. Driving forward

Rising like the Winter sun

A promise of Summer on the horizon