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FOND MEMORIES

by  libera

Posted: Sunday, November 28, 2004
Word Count: 170




touched and felt the textures of his world;
On terraces I basked, on sofas I curled.

Music and incense filtered through rooms like noisy smoke.
Barely a word was heard; we hardly spoke.

Sunsets and dawns coloured my few days;
And rainbow shades merged with the moonlight haze.

I lived his photographs, his paintings - I tasted his wine;
His heavenly haven - so, so divine.

It took me to Europe, India, Bali;
Deepest darkest Africa - maybe even Mali.

But it was in Africa's most southern and sunniest Cape
I spent a pleasant time in blissful escape.

It reeled me in, I was totally drawn.
ĎOh, to live those moments againí, I mourn.

I was overcome with emotion, I became intense.
And a senseless bicker left me incensed.

I long to feel lifted and liberated again;
To be in his beautiful, Utopian Zen.

Oh! to inhale once more, those fragrant candles;
And smooth my hands across the mantles.

But itís not obsession, itís intoxication!
A chaste sensuality without fornication.