The Gift of Love

The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton

I sighed with knowledge of my surrender
under the sweetest sensations of discovery;

I understand the desire to unveil time's intentions,

smile when I hear the secret, sacred words falling,

flowing from his lips, dripping like honey,
swirling me under its touch.

I ache with the glance of your words upon my skin,
feather-light and floating softly;
I arch toward your music, swaying out of silent shadows

into the adoration of song.

These moments away from you move too slowly -

I yearn beyond borders that separate our shivering hearts,
knowing distance means nothing to those that love truly,

without hesitation.

There are infinite chords longing for your voice,
colors that need your soft mouth to release them into dream -

this fire upon the hearth waits for your arrival to share its warmth.

I place a candle in each room of my heart,
waiting patiently for the music of your footsteps upon the path.

Languid with love,
I am rhythmed by the sorcery of your hands.

I become something sacred in your eyes
as the wind moves the curtain's lace slowly,
revealing the distant horizon where you once stood,
alone.

The wax melts unnoticed:
these rooms are filled
with light.