by Ron Roberts

THE WHISPER OF THE SOFT RAIN

BRUSHED ACROSS THE SASH AND PANE

PILLOWS FORMED OF INTIMACY LAIN

AS THE FRANTIC RIVULETS RUSHED FROM THE SILL

LOVE GROWN DEEP REFUSING ALL WANE

LIFE EDGED ALONG A RUSHING RILL

AS A CRADLING SPOON RESPONSE COMFORTS ALL PAIN

RESTING BACK AGAINST RAW WILL

THE STUBBLED SCRATCH OF CHIN TO SKIN

GOOSE BUMPS RISE TO CHILL OR THRILL

FRAILLY WE SEEK OR FADE FROM NATURE’S FIERY RUSH

GLIMPSING THE END DARE WE BEGIN

FOR LOVE IS BLIND