My path to there

 

You stood there, where i journeyed;
half-across the world i knew, into the new
There like the silvered nights I'd left behind
were you in memory and touch, in kind, a blend
of wished for things and vaunt rebellions.

Considered at the edge of hope,
the petal fall of soft moon flower, a poetry
of soft winds and eager skin; turned wintry chill
into the breathless heat of summer.
It was solstice in the southern hemisphere
as tropical heat burned in our thoughts,
hidden within ancient lines, and revealed
in the sandy gist of her skin
on the burnished bronze of mine.