By your side, I’m sent back;
time jumps its rust track,
and suddenly, I’m me-
sun-speckled and grinning,
french braids the shade
of dandelions
once fluffed and
wish brimming.
Laughter lilts from
your lax lips and
back I flit into
salty skin,
sea burbling
between my toes,
clutching raspberry glow
in a porcelain bowl.
When you sing,
melody-rich and meandering,
I catch some stray hums
floating from
our stained glass-painted kitchen,
the fragrant waves of sugar rise,
from a Sunday-baked
bread pudding.
You breathe fresh and free,
and once more,
I’m splayed beneath
August-lush leaves,
enveloped by their whispering,
waiting for the grill
to stop grilling
while watching shadow wings
swoop through
a nectarine evening.
I know this risks sounding
like an homage to me,
myself, and
heart-dotted I,
but it’s a love letter
to you-
my keeper of time.
pm poetry 