The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton
I taste this moment upon your mouth;
the smoothest mead swirls within my veins.
The passion of grapes is fierce -
each drink brings growth as we strive for light.
Gazing far into your galaxies, lost and found
on the threshold of unveiled dimensions;
life is redefined, almost unendurable in depth.
We question our reaching, our sonorous touch inside tender grasp.
Fingers mesh as we quietly murmur each other's name.
We fan these flames with every stuttered breath,
each aching arche across this universe.
No fragility remains unexplored, no tenacity denied -
our hands pluck fruit without pulling free from shivering stem,
inhaling scents from fragrant sunsets drifting slowly within our eyes.
Tomorrow is never beyond reach of this sacred gasp -
yet, there is only this memory as we lean towards each other;
feathers flutter on a slow, grateful breeze.
Rapture demands a heavy toll and we pay it gladly,
with caution’s quiet whisper.
We yearn for sun and can only dream it from afar.
We are stars studded into darkness;
brilliance punctuates this canvas with desire.
Lonely in our drifting, we cluster together,
forming patterns of clarity in astonishment.
Sailors lost in the currents
will use these glorious intentions to navigate toward home.
Supple and lithe is this breath upon my skin,
your subtle sighs sweetly beckon my song
underneath the moon's glistening nuances of trembled light;
this ethereal, echoing touch grazes tenderly
upon the landscape of my soul.
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