You should have never stopped to wave hello
From the gravel throated vehicle of your voice
Should have kept on going in your One Way lane
Never slowing to spy me barefoot kite flying
On my blistering beach
It would have been easier to tend my sunburned skin
Than to repair my shattered stained glass heart
You should have rejected running your hands through my hair
It only caused to tangle up my focused thoughts
Into the architectural blueprints of your future plans
Had you not commented on my perfume or my playfulness
If we never shared our songlists from the seventies
I doubt I would have danced for you in the sand
I'm certain I would not have saved
That very last bottle of unopened wine
Had you kept moving in your silent determination
To remain an introverted enigma
I would have still been a butterfly
Flitting from petal to petal
Landing on larkspur and lilacs
Fully aware and forgiving that my summertime flight
And my feminine folly would inevitably end
But you did not pass me over
No! You did not pass me by
There, you caught me in your grasp
Fast and without warning
Snatching my breath and making me blush
I, so made of sand and shells
You, the wind and water
A twist of tornado touches
And a volcanic volley of hot lava verses
Flowing, flowing, flowing
Towards one another
In Come-To-Me confidence
You allowing me to believe that love
Like a rising tide
Goes out and yet comes in again
You could have just watched me from afar
Safely well hidden away behind the dunes
Disguising your binocular stare
Staying put
Staying away
Staying alone
Each of us unknown to the other
Safe from the summer surge
The soaking lust and longing
You could have forbidden a broadened smile
Turned in a different direction
Without offering to untangle my kite string
Knowing I could have done that for myself
I would have loved that summer, still
And surely so much more...
Had I not met and loved you more...
That summer....
And still
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The debts and reveal of your pen are a constant reminder to me of how beautiful and fragile love is... and shall always be... and what caution must be exercised before opening one's heart to its beckoning.