Folds

The sun stoked morning filters through the sweating velux,

dribbles of dew patinaed onto the glassed field.

I  turn.

You are gone,

yet my eyes are drawn to the ridged creases in the quilt,

the shape of you still apparent,

furrows rising, curving, falling,

the rushes of my love entangled in the folds,

in the shade and scent of the night.

I pull the sheet closer,

reviving your sting upon my skin,

Time stilled, yet moving towards the inevitable,

the much desired reunion,

the moment when this landscape will be renewed,

the monsoon rains channelling into our veins.

My quartered heart catches at the thought!

I dare not touch the pleated hills, smooth the folds,

the shoals of my love nestled there,

nesting,

waiting for the Earth to spin,

align with the axis of the Moon and Mars,

bringing back the phoenix song,

the unfolding of another day’s resurrection.