Mooring

House of Heart

You are an ache, a throb,

a tremble in my heart.

The stroke of copper lightening.

I have etched you in my lines,

in margins I’ve swathed you

in resplendent hues of color.

Your voice is a tender quake,

your breath a hive of honey.

I am a gentle tug you barely notice,

a fleeting rain shower on a summer day,

the gentle wave washed upon your shore

where I have tethered my soul to yours.

Steve Hanks 1

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