Sharing Stars

   
You whisper, “stay with me,”
beneath the falling stars
all the others
come to know
as rain;
“peel me like an onion,
shelter me,
lay me open”
you say…

then we talk one another
down to earth and grains
of sand and stones and grass
‘til we are filthy and wet, like horses,
muddy and writhing
on beautiful backs
with only clay to cover
our scars and our stains
when we draw forth stories of a future
of glass, the tarred and honeyed, glistening past,
and distant tomorrow’s fast kisses and you hear me say:

“are you more, or less,
a dreamer today than you were
when you promised
yourself
‘forever’?”
And I stay;
I stay just
as I told you I would
and together we touch
elusive freedom, and grace,
fingers stretched through the grey sky and rain,
then dragged;
wide open again;
across trembling, willing souls,
carving out a precious refuge,
a hole, into which we crawl,
whenever we
have need of treasure
or the sky begins to fall.

Due to be read at the Leeds Savage Club Writers' Meeting, 06.10.10