You my love ~ are my cartographer…
Drawing lines about my heart ~
Sketching rivers ~ that flow between…
The mountains as they part ~
Intricate pathways ~ secret trails…
Undeniable passion ~
It is my form ~ now your parchment…
Inked forever fashioned ~
Sealed in a vault to which only you hold the key.
(I shared this on facebook~)

Once upon a time,

there were decrepit ruins

submerged in a celestial memory

cloistered opaque tableaus

seeking solace from the venery.

An enchanted ice princess

sat stoically upon a rainbow prism,

regally mounted and enthroned

in a realm of frozen torpid honeycomb.

~

All the while,

the royal sacchariferous nectar was

sorrowfully locked away

and there it stayed hidden in secret

year upon year ~ day after day.

~

Arial knights sought her consort,

pollen laden trinkets they did seek

to lay in adoration beneath her feet.

Statuesque beeswax pillars

and golden monuments did they build

all to her beauty they did wield.

And still she remained unmoved.

~

Her crumbling heart had been sealed

in propolis for an eternity of time

stone age plaster reconstituted and refined.

The shimmery ice princess

supped singularly on honey garden wine

a staple of her kingdom taken from the arbor’s vine.

~

One fine spring day, it is written

thus a gallant suitor came to call

a simple wooden chalice did he offer

for of his possessions this was his all.

Filled with ambrosia elixir most sweet

he gifted the dowry at her royal chair

liquid passion fruit ~ a tongue’s delightful fare.

~

An apiarist’s affection

in a land which flows with milk and honey tides

He flew against the current to touch the other side.

She withdrew from her chamber

to accept this consort’s affidavit

her princess crown abdicated

she then became his queen.

~

Long ago in days of old

there were ancient relics

aloft in a celestial memory

sweet immutable tableaus

preserving this apian symphony.

I miss you, even though you are here…
I miss your voice, your touch, your tears…
How can darkness ravage dreams at the seams…
Dreams built through the years….
(portion of prose)