The Glowing, Pulsating Heart

Staring at the hot coals of my dwindling fire.
I reach for her hand.
Her soft, warm, loving, female hand.
For a moment, I feel it completely, perfectly.
And then in an instant, it’s gone.
I stare into the fire.
The glowing, pulsating heart before me.
Providing me warmth, into the late hours of the night.
A sonic wind blows through the trees.
Bringing with it a chill, a longing.
And now she’s here, back again.
An angel.
Surrounding me, caressing me.
Keeping me warm, safe.
The wind stops and all is still.
The air is cold, but warm.
The music of Calexico whispers to me from a small portable speaker.
Soft distant slide guitars, vibes, maracas, trumpets, bells.
Swimming in a sea of scents and subtle sounds.
I’m wrapped up in her warm soft skin.
Her heart in mine.
We are one.
Making love on the wind.
The fire crackles.
The music continues.
And we drift on through the darkness of night.

~Scott Stillman





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