THE LAKE

Cyclical and symphonic,
     hypnotic in its insistence,
          rolling, surging, persistent
               by the moon’s urging.
         Crashing, thrashing,
     ever-splashing is the lake.
The sound of power,
     hour after hour
          amidst sea bird calls,
               a summer evening falls;
          the sun’s rapid retreat
     burrowing under the horizon
with a vibrant auburn radiance.
     The warmth beneath our feet
          transfers from the soft sand
               straight to our hearts,
          you and I locked in love’s
     all-encompassing embrace,
soulful kisses burn with
     unquenchable fire
          beneath the canopy of
               starlit wonder with
          only the sound of the waves
     for our view. Lapping the
shore, seeking its nourishment
     from the abandoned beach but
          finding nothing to feed upon.
               Where this evening finds us, there is
          just you, just me and this blanket.
     The tide creeps closer as my words,
poetic and symphonic, hypnotic
     in their insistence, roll and surge
          by love’s urging, and are clutched
               closely to your chest, held to your heart.
          Words that warm, words that heal,
     words that save as the tide struggles
to take us out. You find comfort
     it their buoyancy, for in case of emergency,
          this poem can be used as a flotation device.

Walt 

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