New poem

The Lovers' Dream

When I was the fly,
you were the fruit.
My steps tickled you,
and I reveled in your
sweet, juicy, stickiness.

When burdened and parched,
you wandered the desert,
carrying the the bedouin's treasure
on the curve of your back,
I was the oasis pond
where you drank.
I gladly gave myself to you
for the feel of your lips
and to be the mirror for
your fringed eyes.

You are the soil
in which my roots have tunneled,
the ground
from which I fed and stood.
And as I grew,
it was you I sheltered.
You took my falling leaves
as treasures,
and they became the substance of you.

We have each
been the explorer and the new world,
our discoveries ongoing and constant,
each fresh find affirming
that we are at last home.

Copyright 2007.

poetry