Driftwood
Peppered earth and wood smoke
herald your presence
behind me,
so slight the turn
and tilt of my head.
An invitation.
An offering.
Your hair redolent
with sea salt tang
touches my cheek.
Clover stroke .
Raspberry down lips
dry brush my throat,
your bent head
a tender blessing,
blossom
bruised by air.
With the smell
of damson still sweet
on your breath,
you whisper,
and cinnamon scented echoes
fill my head.
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