Indian Summer by Eileen Carney Hulme
Like a deep blue wave of passion you shore into the room where I sit waiting quietly, open-booked.
We have moved through days, loss, pain to hold this moment, this picture postcard seascape of gentle harbouring.
You say ‘I knew you were here I could smell you’ and effortlessly I sway to seal my fate.
You taste of ocean, avenues of grassy dunes, like a magician you pluck a tiny pebble from my hair-
Ancient survivor, sun-kissed on this summer afternoon, unconditionally I step out of my dress into your dream.
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