Sketching a Room Where Love Lives

It is the precise green of spring
in another time of another life
when, on a pad of blank paper,
you make notes about the way shadows
trace the lines on my face
and you presently offer
to sketch of a room
where love lives.

“What would you bring?”
you ask
after settling on two comfortable chairs
and a small table between
meant for tea cups and books
that must be discussed.


“I will bring flowers
fresh cut from my garden
and green plants that will balance the air
and the light that can’t help but stream
through the glass and celebrate the knowing
between us.”

“Let us bring pillows
and soft blankets
for meditation
and napping
near the window seat.”

“Let us fill shelves
with favorite books
and films we must see
while touching
palm to palm.”

Candles and blue glass vessels.
Wicker and wood and metal
objects to hold stones and shells,
petals and papers,
pictures and faces
of things and people
we adore.

There is a coat rack
for leaving the outside world in it’s place,
like removing useful garments against the elements,
and a small rug for shoes near the door.

“Will you bring the flavors of fresh yeasty bread
with crab apple jelly and sweet raspberry jam,
good cheese and grainy crackers, fresh fruit, nuts,
and farmer’s vegetables
to sustain us, Love?”
I say.

”And, of course, there is the matter of my green sweater
and slippers to cover painted toes,
and the mug filled with favorite pens,
and some way to share music.”

“Crystals will catch the sun here
and paint rainbow on the walls.
Soft voices will read poetry
and dictate stories here.”

Silence will not be a weapon here
and words exact tools for understanding
of all matter of things.

“Let us not forget,
in this place of simple beauty,” you say,
“that it is in kindness
where love first resided
and is the place where
we will return again and again
to perfect our design.”

“But most of all,
since you asked,” I reply.
“I will bring this body
that carefully moves
and remembers
the threads that dance
and breathe
in this friendship
of the soul.”