Braided Roses

Clutching Hands

Braided Roses
Not the three red roses you once held
Nor the Chinese French menu
We foolishly read aloud accented
In the lift alone the two of us.
The backseat rides the DC night clubs
Noli our winged bow and arrow friend.
Nor your hand clutching mine
Ten fingers not a light between
We walked to your apartment.
You pulled me into your room
In the bed we caught a smile
Felt our beating hearts listened
To our silence touching our cheeks.
Strangers we were away from home
Again one sweet encounter you said
You’re gone tomorrow your eyes swelled
Looking into mine uncertainties betrayed
By your deep silent breaths of sadness.
Let it not only a figment a moment in your
Memory a time of love we passionately
Consumed but a remembrance of sweet
Friendship forever a cherished encounter
Innocently had dawned upon us one
Faithful day on the Sandy Point Beach.
When the winds ride again
The seven seas our world will find
Not three but two red roses
Dancing laughing at the frivolous
Chinese French menu two roses
Entwined souls braided with blissful
Moments of ecstasy clutching hands
Walking back tiptoeing in the fields of dreams.
NDR 1985

A love poem to my wife Betsy thirteen years after we met. She has not seen it to date. I'll let my son frame it, give it to her on our anniversary this December 2016.

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