In read of the poem, he thought of her in youth and read and way of share in years before.
*****
Candle light on wooden tray, long stemmed glass of wine, deep of red, beside; its taste to her tongue, dry and its linger, as warmth-take of the drink eased and opened mind as heat of the bath loosened and did same with body.
In candle light, enjoy of her wine, she read of same author words that made her feel.
Mostly, she read in silence; but there were times, moved of the words or touched in affect and other ways, when she spoke the poems low and soft to feel their rhythm and flow in breath over tongue and moving of her lips; lyric-kiss of conveyant mind; and when she spoke them slow and softly, she felt them all the more. Further take of her wine, she complemented sense of word-speakings over tongue; taste and warmth and dull-drunk tingle and numb further opening, soothing, immersed into the moment.
There were nights when he rested near and watched her as she read. Quietly, he paid attention, making notes in mind that never erased: her focus of eyes to page, and to him in attention’s change; sooth and her calm in ease and repose immersed in water’s heat; glass’ catch of the candle light when raised and moved—soft dazzle of crystal at meet to her lips, tongue’s faint extend to meet of the taste; the melt of her eyes at pleasure of taste; the melt of her body, more loose and free downward into the heat; allure of her mystery beneath bubbled cover, bend of her naked body in refract of open water-face; her tanned lines in summer, freckle cover of her body; pale, pure and allure of winter’s way; her smile as she read; her smile of a change when spirit stirred and she desired more than love and intimacies of page; her drink again, tongue’s soft meet, stronger draw of the sharp, dry red; dazzle-glimmer of eyes—part candle, part soul—that made his heart beat strong; start of his rise, sometimes covered, others freed; the sight of her see, deepening in immersion still, wholly in moment and sense.
Then will of her stand, will of her show, candle and soul still lighting in eyes; pulse-dance of his heartbeat, strong.
Silent in the intimacy, silent in the see, wine-taste of her tongue in kiss; warm-slick of her skin, body rosed, of water’s heat. His hands’ explore, hers in same, before fall into Creation Intimate.
*****
They were older now. Their bodies changed in the years. Still, she was a wonder; and, still, she loved him, another wonder—why.
He read the words, and it all returned.
“Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”
So he did. He wrote the memory. He told their love.
Written, he ascended stairs to bedroom floor and close of bathroom doors.
He knocked lightly, then entered. He found her in ease and rest of immersion—same as in youth and years before.
He gave her the words. He watched her in read; her smile of pleasure, musings of mind, mouth’s open and purse and tongue’s press in extend to crystal’s meet and dry red taste. Candle caught on the glass, glimmer-shine; eyes’ lit in candle and soul; gentle of her smile and lower of her lashes, melting and deepening into immersion; his heart’s strengthen, begin of rise; her smile on the see.
Will of her stand, will of her show—he was astonished still, even through the years, their comfort, knowledge, and whole of lived intimacies.
The magic was unchanged.
Wine taste of her tongue in start of their kiss, water-slick of her and rose of her body from immersion. His lead of her low, intimate and known—still magic; love-dazzle of eyes—candle and soul—staring, seeing into his through strengthen and build and attain of astonish over open of the floor.
Unchanged, in all their years.
