The Painting

I see the image in my mind's eye.
And put it onto the clean canvas.
My pencil strokes mark the outlines,
Keep the perspective true.
The portrait is for my friend.
She is naked in her vulnerability .
I place her chicken arms into a boxer's pose.
Her skinny leg is placed on the head of her assailant.
Her gaze penetrating and her hair crazy-free.
In contrast my friends self-portrait is dark.
Her cyclops eye is staring in disbelief,
Her body compartmentalised into broken pieces.
This is how she is now.
My portrait,
Is how I want her to be.

Intimacy

Stay present with me as we negotiate,
The uneven path that is our intimacy.
Look into my eyes,
And tell me with those mirrors of your soul,
Your darkest secrets and most private desires.
Speak the words that speak your truth.
Listen for mine.
Read my gestures.
Keep the bond unbroken.
Do not stray into,
You own secret places.
But be with me,
Until the cacophony,
Of our everyday lives intrudes,
And we must again part.

The respite of an embrace

When your bucket is full to overflowing,
And you must carefully traverse an uncertain path,
Unaware of the obstacles still to be overcome,
It is in the stability of a firm embrace,
That you find sufficient solace,
To keep moving forward.

Revisiting memories

It was just an underpass,
Rusted,
From a long defunct railway line,
On an obscure dirt track,
Which had at one time,
Been the main road,
To Nimmitabel.

But many winters ago,
Almost fifteen,
This was where we had held each other,
For the first time,
After a long time parted,
At a particularly crucial stage in our,
Relatively young relationship.

Here under this bridge,
On that cold, dark, drizzly night,
When I was shivering,
With stress and trepidation,
At the consequences,
I knew would inevitably follow,
You held onto me.

Just as you did today.