In this field of dreams

 

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Though I walk alone in this golden field I feel you occupy the spaces I have created for you in my heart. I reach out to you with my soul and find you waiting. Always there. Always ready.

As the sun rises I see you revealed in front of me, a play of light on the morning mist transformed by the magic of this day and this place into you. There and not there. A welcome vision that begs me “follow.”

You dance playfully ahead of me, leading me through this field of gold that sways in the light breeze as if to an unheard song. It is the song of the Universe. A song in which we play a line of perfect harmony.

You wear sandles to protect your feet as you skip and run ahead of me but you are dressed as you were before we made love last night. Panties that cling to your beckoning moisture. A sleeveless top that exposes your soft belly that invites my kisses and celebrates the curve of your soft breasts. You are more beautiful than the rising sun, more alluring than a cool spring on a hot day, more graceful than the birds that sing your name, more inspiring than this field of dreams I follow you through.

You turn your head to me and smile or hop backwards as you laugh and call out to me then dance ahead again as you sing songs with outrageous lyrics and laugh with innocence at the filthy words that conjure sensual delight. You are drunk on passion. Filled with an enticing energy that can not be ignored. Why would even consider ignoring you? Never!

You are a nymph sent by the goddess intent on seducing me with song and dance. You are goddess possessed. You are playful sprite. Your laughter is a siren call that I am bound by.

But in this mystic island caught outside time, there are no shores to crash upon. No hidden pond to drown in. No tricks of delight.

Here I become satyr to your nymph as I follow you. I long to take you here, now and forever in this sacred place. Though there is no mythical altar to offer my devotion I worship upon the altar of your heart which I carry always with me and where a blazing fire always rages.

You reach the highest point then slow, your song now turned to a sweet lull, a hum, you turn to me, head lowered with a knowing smile, lips parting, eyes locked on mine, arms raised slightly from your sides, palms facing me, fingers spread, welcoming my tender embrace as I step into you, pull you close, and whisper the words, “Soon, My Love.”

I stand there for an eternity. Not wanting to leave this place. Wanting only to feel your skin against mine, our lips brushing, hands touching and tracing each other, hearts beating as one, souls joined, but the morning grows late.

I open my eyes and the field, though just a field, is now something more. Something truly magic. Though you were never here your presence remains. I can feel the warmth of you even now and hear those words you said as I watched you fade away as if they were a spell, “Yes, Darling. Soon.”

 

 

 

Image by J.M.Greff

You don’t know me

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You don’t know me.

Maybe we’ve met or spoken. Maybe you have read what I write. Maybe you only know what it is that I do for you, that I love you, that I care.

But you don’t know me.

You know the man determined to live by the simple and incredibly difficult intentions of love and gratitude, but you don’t know why he loves so deeply or what it is that he is ever so grateful for.

You know the man who shares his heart openly. Who is unafraid to admit that he cries as much as he laughs, but you don’t know what it is that would make him happy or why it is he cries at night.

You know the man who is generous to a fault, but you don’t know that his son tells him, “Dad, focus on yourself. You seem to focus on everyone except yourself.” You don’t know why you come first. Even his son doesn’t.

You know the man determined to change himself and his world, but you don’t know why he is so determined. Who he was before the change and why it’s so important for him to change.

You know this man only because of what he does for you.

I could tell you that he goes without food for weeks in order to be sure that you don’t. That he falls four months behind on rent to be sure you have what you need or why his landlord is okay with this.

You know the man who will always be there for you, no matter what, but you don’t know how he cries for you when you are afraid
or when you feel as alone as he does.

You don’t know where or when I was born, what towns I grew up in, my favorite foods or colors. You don’t even know my middle name.

I could tell you these things but you still wouldn’t know me.

It’s okay. I don’t know you either.

You know what you need to know.

You know that you are loved.
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Almost as published in Elephant Journal (except they tried to turn it into a poem)
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Author: J.M. Greff
Image: Jake Davies/Unsplash
Editor: Taia Butler
Copy Editor: Nicole Cameron
Social Editor: Khara-Jade Wa