Frangipani blossoms wreathe a legion of winding paths all leading to where you lie. Their heavy, musky-sweet scent floods the senses, and prismatic color warms the appearance of your mundane home.
My footsteps squish the damp earth as they weave their way up to you. My hands open, offering to your fresh haven a bouquet of pink lilies.
Driplets form a tiny pool upon my cheek. I hear your voice whispering softly... floating through my heart...
My lips move in silent prayer for your soul's protection promising to lie beside you when my day comes.
The air is coaxed to zephyrs by your hand, gently swishing around me in a soft embrace, long forgotten.
Kneeling, I hold some soil ... watch it sift through my fingers. I close my eyes, breathe in, breathe out,
and smile again...
I have touched you once more!
Al-Ziyara = The Visit.....
This was written exactly 3 years ago. June 4th 2002
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