By the Lakeside

The trees there in the distance
spring into the sky
like bursts of ink on paper
that fall and quickly dry

The lakeside is as silent
as music when it stops
(though there will soon be clamor
as when the curtain drops)

Clouds on the lake reflecting
are breath’s trace on glass
twitches of your belly
are ripples as they pass

Your hips, the smooth horizon
as slumbering you lie
your dark hair is reed rustling
as carefully I sigh

I gaze at you for minutes
weaving on your sleep
like the lake majestic,
wonderful and deep

The sun’s presence draws nearer
as silently we dream
a single spark his crown casts
forms the first sunbeam

It’s as if you were dressing
cloaked in the limelight
the restless clouds throw motion
riling quiet night

The wind itself turns harsh now
feet roam the wooden floor
hallway light spills over
through the open door

Your words, they are so hasty
as if they yearned to go
the hallway bursts its bruising
harsh neonlit glow

I want to say so much now
but exposed here to the light
I watch your figure lonely
slipping out of sight

The rising sun throws piercing,
angry glares at me
leaving our lake draining
into memory

His stare is not forgiving
for creatures of the night –
those longing for the beauty
of a deep lake’s sight.