A poem for new book. The fray.

Poetry for the book. The island.

(Fray-1 a : to wear (something, such as an edge of cloth) by or as if by rubbing : fret. b : to separate the threads at the edge of. 2 : strain, irritate … a botched new bus system … which has frayed tempers. �" The Economist. intransitive verb. 1 : to wear out or into shreds.)

                     The fray

Wanderlust, free-mind or too much drink.

He fall into the fray of dreams nightly.

Maybe just dreams??

Something beautiful, something sweet came into my dreams.

Rolling fingers over sleeping skin,

rolling hands over quiet body,

rolling arms awakening dark heart.

She laid in a field of the wildflowers,

her colorless eyes,

transforming faces of kindness,

of ladies, I have known.

He  heard a whisper,

don't fall into the fray.

The prettiest gal he had ever known, ever seen.

Her brought her closer, pressed her body toward him and he whispered.

I love you Sheena.

He moved his face to her stomach and she whispered.

Taste, exam and learn. 

the fray is the secret places where lovers go.

They learn everlasting sweetness, darkness and

can swim in the real vision of life without knowing the heaviness

of knowing fear, ownership or disappointment.

The fray, maybe dreams, maybe sickness?

Maybe us?

Maybe where we need to be.

Author's Note

Poem for the book. The Island.

Reviews

[Patricia]

This is wonderful. “Taste, exam, learn”...I love that line. Making love is always those things no matter how many times you do so. Sheena. a beautiful name. What a lovely place the fray is

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you dear Patricia. Two poems came into my dreams. This is one. I appreciate the comment.