Intimacy of the Mind and Pen

If I could simply state
I could never be without you
spiritually and physically you are my bridge to reality
..the voice of my soul
when you are not near, my thoughts go cold
my life…
blank like paper is my stare
our words go missing because their existence is based on the time we share

our words become children delivered in sonnets and stories, nursed on haiku's about yellow morning glories
our children describe
what it feels like inside the greatest minds of our time
our grandchildren give birth to
Spanish villas off the coast of Orion’s belt
and our great grand children talk about
alligators skating on ice that never melts

without the union of us there can be no others
after, present or before
the devil smiles with another chance to reach out and settle the score
the tales of our culture will not live without leaving the mouths of unborn kids and herded by the shepherds in the morn
our bodies covet the linen sheets that crinkle while we write
the vowels tell tales of yearning bodies that travel through the night
and on their trip the words become the story of our lives