Sunday, July 13, 2008
from a knowing smile
glistens from the lips of my oldest friend.
Gold and fuscia and indigo and magenta and silver and canary yellow
are the colours that swim through
the hair of my oldest friend.
A gentle embrace
to greet me
or wish me well is a predictable offering from my oldest friend.
"Come with me,
comfort lives here",
says the attentive gaze of my oldest friend.
Stories, fairy tales, encouragement, and moments of sorrow and joy
are the offerings
which seep from the pores of my oldest friend.
Nurturing mannerisms offered through
a simple meal
prepared with consciousness by the loving hands of my oldest friend.
a familiar place to be me.
That's what comes from my oldest friend.
Speech-less apologies follow misunderstandings
unexpected but always there
lingering, well-timed gestures of remorse I give to and receive from my oldest friend.
Effervescence, hatred, jokes and smelly shoes
make me the person that I share with my oldest friend.
Drum beats, dance, loss, discovery, sunshine, lattes and thunderstorms
dot the path
and are what I share with my oldest friend.
Photo credits to justinsimoni.com