Fantasy

How many times have you walked with me

the earth carpeted with moldering leaves

that break where we tread and release the scent

of life in tune with itself

How many times have I held your hand

as we stepped across stones in a stream

felt the calluses of an honest day’s work

and ribs born to the strings of guitars

 How many times have you brushed snow from my hair

and I from your shoulders and beard

oblivious to cold in a warm embrace

in the shelter of hemlock trees

 

How many times have we made love in the rain

water running off of your back

limbs cushioned in a deep bed of moss

welcoming thunder that muffles our cries

 

of course it hasn’t happened yet and perhaps it never will

yet  I carry these images when I go for a walk

in hopes that, someday, you'll be able to love

and when that day comes you will walk at my side and trade fantasy for memories