I imagine Frost to walk
my October meadow's path,
that one less traveled,
to stop and sigh
in crystal inspiration
dreaming
impossible petals of feather
from distant prisms of wonder
splitting light to fingers
striking words
to color in simple gift,
and bare a smile.
I imagine you were there,
a flower shy
as wind subsiding,
current to wave
in hair and skin
to tingle,
embarrassed
by the rush of truth,
reading from encounter's accidental script
to speak as eyes
in will to dictate.
I imagine two
to walk in hands to hold,
where word is laugher
in giggle to express
without expectation's waste,
as song to write,
for lyrics have ways
of rolling in rhyme
like tide to sand
in acclamation of wave,
jubilation feeling surge
when time is right to fly together,
tenor and soprano
in harmonic dance,
as bass and trebble
spill to soul in gathered note.
The way of love
is step in patience,
not to rush as meter contains
tune and beat in repetition
to follow sign
in heart's sweet cadence.
