Beyond the Looking Glass

She speaks but he may not understand,
He may feel his needs are misdiagnosed,
Like foreigners whose dialect are much different,
Yet what they possess inside is both complimentary and necessary for the life of each other.
He must learn that her words are deep expressions of her heart,
Her thought sets the compass of how to find her.
That she cannot help but be in tune with not only herself but also the world around her,
In his arms is where she would find serenity from it all,
If only he would be still enough to listen not just with his intellect but also with his heart.
She must learn that emotionally he needs her so,
That her words can be as sharp as a knife or comforting as the warmth of a blanket,
Although he is strong, he wonders if there is a place he may also rest in the safety of her lap…that, he may quite the demands of life and thoughts of his mind.
Each day these couples arise,
Getting ready for work, school or for their job,
Needs needing to be translated and addressed but due silent frustration and lack of understanding, they turn desperately to their own tribe.
The glass between them means they see but can not feel,
Sense, but can not touch,
Behold, but can not hear.
Like foreigners whose dialect are much different,
Until they learn to patiently, work with one another, seek to learn each other’s language,
That the essence of love is experienced daily, beyond the sphere of a demanding life.

By Savaslas Lofton

He Held Her Once in Summer

He held her once in summer
The stars swarmed in admiration as they danced in celebration of their love
He remembered the fragrance of her skin as she whispered she would one day return forever
That night they danced, seemed like forever under the full moon
Nightly he would return to the place
He could still feel the tenderness of her hand as he recounted her promise
The vivid picture of the deep cavern in her eyes, the warmth of her cheek…her words of life kept him awake in anticipation of the day they would one day be together again
Nervous of her journey, mission as a physician to a war tattered country Mimicked the struggle deep within him betwixt supporting her passion to go and begging her to stay
His words became few as a result of her absence
Sleepless nights failed to keep him company, though comforted by each love letter he read over and over until memorized
Three days before her arrival
His heart sank within him
Difficult to swallow, he gasped for air
Frozen by the image of her face on CNN
Her presence was no more as he learned of her death
His knees buckled, thrusting him to the floor
An excruciating pain traveled throughout his body as if he had been struck by lightening
He sat in silence, hiding his face in his hands…recounting the promise she had made, when he held her once in summer.
By Savaslas Lofton c. 2011

A Mother's Love

Mother’s Love

Tender and true
The love of a mother’s touch
The warmth of her kiss makes living in a world of chaos total bliss

The lessons she teaches are words of wisdom that shall never fade
Along with her smile like a thousand sunsets
Rays of sunshine when feeling down
Giving no reason to frown with a bowed down head

Love overflowing
From a well that never runs dry
Even though at times tired and weary from life’s travels
She meets at the threshold of the doorstep with open arms

A mother’s love
No true definition
No word that is able to do justice to the sacrifices she has made
The battles she has won
Protecting her own
Graceful as an eagle that has conquered the height of many clouds

She is a loving mother
A supporting friend
A person of legacy for whom inhales and exhales the gift and treasures of life.

By Savaslas Lofton
c.2010

4 Basic characteristics a Christian Woman should always look for in a Christian Man

4 Basic characteristics a Christian Woman should always look for in a Christian Man
Written by: Savaslas Lofton, featured in March 2007 issue, www.wowmagazine.org
www.savaslas.blogspot.com

How many of us know or have witnessed single, beautiful and faithful Christian sisters, helplessly fall into the trap of a risky relationship that has caused unnecessary pain and suffering? Perhaps you may know of someone who may be in this same type of relationship today. Many single Christian women desiring a meaningful relationship who have been hurt by past experiences have either lowered their standards to mediocrity, or have given up all together. With this said, age and experience alone, are not great qualifiers for determining if one is really ready to settle down. One common truth remains, that deep in the same heart of these devoted sisters, the desire to love and to be loved yet remains.
Therefore, God has placed in my heart at least four basic characteristics I believe every Christian woman should always be able to observe in a Christian man. These four basic characteristics are as follows:

#1 Prophet
Please understand that before I get into this specific characteristic, I am not implying that his calling has to be that of a prophet, however, I wanted to explain how much the characteristic of a prophet should parallel that of a potential husband. One particular duty of the prophet in Biblical antiquity was to declare the Word of God as it was delivered to him concerning the past, present and future, or all three aspects at the same time. One of the Hebrew words for prophet is chozeh which is interpreted one who has vision. Therefore, there are at least three questions concerning this topic that you should consider:

(1) Has he communicated to you God's vision for his life and what steps he plans to take to bring the vision to pass?
(2) Does he speak God's Word about matters more than his opinion?
(3) Does he seek to protect, by either words or action, the purpose and destiny God has placed inside of you?

These three questions, although the list could go on and on, are extremely important. By saying I do, you are in essence granting unto him access and permission to speak into your life physically and spiritually. What he speaks in the midst of adversity is just as important as the words that he declares in the midst of opportunity. Always remember, that out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks according to Matthew 12:34. If he speaks life and only life; which is God's Word in the midst of circumstance, then you know that he rules his own spirit and is capable of loving you as he loves himself, because he bridles what he speaks.

#2 Priest
Is he an intercessor? How often does he sincerely commune with God; and if so, is he obedient to the voice of God? Would you say that he considers prayer a high priority in his life?
These are important because if he can not intercede and seek God's face during both peace and adversity, how will the family know which direction to take? One of the duties of the priests in the Old Testament was to be responsible for entering into the Holy of Holies on behalf of the people to bring back an answer from God. Seeking God involved both direction of the people and instructions of how they were to remain under the wings of God's protection. The man is responsible for covering the family by praying and seeking God's face for direction and instruction. One of his responsibilities in marriage is to be the "husband" or "house-band" to surround the family with arms of spiritual and physical security, and support. He seldom moves without putting into practice Proverbs 3:5-6, where the Bible explains to trust in God with all of his heart and lean not unto his own understanding, but in all of his ways acknowledge God so that his path; which includes the path of his family, would be securely directed by God.

#3 Poet
Most women enjoy a man who is very intimate with words. One who compliments her on her hair, sends a note with a rose to her job, who seeks daily to find encouraging words to say, and knows to listen when she needs a listening ear. He is the type that understands how much she enjoys being pursued. He showers her with love and communication that quenches her curiosity of wondering if she is ever on his mind. He may not posses the ability and speech of a Solomon in the Songs of Solomon or a William Shakespeare; however, he is forever finding new ways to effectively communicate to her the deep desires of his heart concerning the advancement of their relationship.

#4 Protégée
Are you able to trace his spiritual lineage? Meaning, does he communicate to you who it is that spiritually motivates him to become a better man? Does he have a mentor or someone that he looks up to for wisdom in his life (especially when it comes to career and finances-this is also very important)? Is his life submitted to the Pastor whose church he attends? Does he love and embrace the ministry? Serving under the Pastor and ministry (if done correctly) keeps a man humble, sensitive to the spirit of God and his Pastor. In addition, this will make him accountable for his actions both positive and negative. With a proper balance of serving the ministry, it should be a plus for providing positive family influence, as well as wisdom concerning direction in important matters.

Prophet, Priest, Poet and Protégée; all of these characteristics can not effectively be in action without an intimate relationship with Jesus Christ. Therefore, a Christian woman should not look for "validation" but "confirmation". A man can not "validate her" only "confirm" who she has already been created to be.

I Close My Eyes to Remember

If ever was my sight to leave
I would be content with colorful images of your beautiful face
For they are forever etched in my mind
The euphoric smell of your hair in my nostrils abode like the sweet smell of lavender, honey, and myrrh
Captivated by the expression of your thoughts like warm rays of sunshine
The flowing motion of rain
The stroke of your finger tips as you caress my back…pulling me close
You into me and me into you
Lovemaking as brush strokes and patterns of words until we intertwine completely engrafted
Ascending upon the dew of pillowed clouds
Experiencing the breeze of autumn
A kiss in summer
An embrace in winter
I remember when I gazed into your eyes
My knees buckled beneath me
I surrendered my strength
At one stroke of your hand
As I closed my eyes
Imagining us as doves as we soared as one upon skies of love

By Savaslas Lofton
Copyrite Mar 2010

The Lens of a Father

The Lens of a Father

Statistics are against me
The government tries to replace me
And it’s hard for a man to stand sometimes
But nothing can keep you away from me
I have scars…
And if you take a closer look, you will see the whips I’ve had to endure from the pain of my past.
But that doesn’t matter now my son
At the end of the day
Though earlier, I may have cried
Tears flowing down from my eyes
Disappointed I may have let you down
You won’t see that…but a glow and sparkle in my eyes as I lay you down at night for a peaceful sleep...and I smile.
When you grow older
Maybe we can sit down over a cup of coffee as I tell you my life’s story
Hoping what I have shared would supply you strength and wisdom
This is my legacy to you.
That though you may often stumble during life’s journey
Get back up
And though at times you may want to quit
Find the strength to carry on.
To me son
Being your father isn’t about being perfect or getting everything right
But about me passing from this life
Knowing you knew me and I, you
To know I loved you and your mother with all that was within me to love
I gave my all.
Let this lens of life given to you
be to you as gold.
After all, one day you will become a man and maybe even a father one day
and you will remember your father’s wisdom and love
To pass it on to your sons when I have waltzed away upon the wings of the wind
Knowing this…I will always be with you.

By Savaslas Lofton
c.2009

Never Look Down

Raindrops in life don’t always feel light,
Sometimes they come hard and feel like razor blades against my skin,
Ricochet by the wind like a bullet from the caliber of a gun,
But, grandmother always taught, no matter the cost…never look down.

Busy city streets,
Taxi’s passing by as swift as the smoke from a cigar,
I’m mistaken at times as one for easy sex as if I’m some rap video chick…despite my brief case and swagger,
Called out of my name for the refusal to give in to the pressure,
Being a black woman doesn’t automatically mean I am easy…I must maintain my identity,
Grandmother always taught, no matter the cost…never look down.

For she said…a woman who can tell you more about what lies in the dirt than what lies in the skies where eagle’s wings fly…may not necessarily know their truth self-worth.
In spirit…she would add as she smiled,
I look at the scars on her face from segregation in the 60’s, for not bowing down to the low state of men,
Thinking her position was either lying on her back, or serving in the kitchen.
Grandmother taught me…never look down.

I’ve learned to appreciate the value God intrinsically placed in the whiteness of my smile,
In the deep caverns of my eyes, in the texture of my skin…holding myself close like a warm cup of mocha when the weather’s chill rest upon my window seal.

No matter the cost…I won’t look down.
I will hold my head up high and not let either failure or what other people say or think, be the modern day noose around my neck.

I am free both in body and in spirit…no matter the cost, I will never look down.

Written by Savaslas Lofton
c.2009

It’s funny you know…how things change as you grow older. Your experiences turn into memories like drops of rain upon still waters. People call me by my first name, Cathy, but they really don’t know me…the real me. When I was 12 years old, my aunt, whom I had adored, told me I had an ugly smile. I was young. I didn’t realizing she was speaking out of animosity against my mother for winning the heart of her boyfriend during their teenage years. She never forgave my mother. They have been at odds since then. They didn’t realize the anger and the hurt they had exchanged were affecting their children like a blood transfusion gone wrong. My aunt’s two daughters and I were the ones suffering emotionally. Whenever I laughed, I would use my hand like a handkerchief to cover up my smile, rehearsing her hurtful comments as an actor recalling the lines to a play. “Cathy, you are beautiful,” was what I had heard from others for most of teenage years into adult hood. That comment I had imagined, was made, perhaps to an imaginary friend who went with me everywhere I went. I didn’t feel beautiful on the inside. This event along with other hurtful experiences feasted upon my self-esteem like cancer. I was a beautiful woman with a broken heart.

So to admit that I am beautiful today, to me, is more than making a statement of confidence…it’s the culmination of a journey.

Cathy is my name…but “Overcomer” should be my last name. From a painful past filled with hurtful insults to verbally abusive relationships, I survived it all. I’ve realized now...the beauty that lives inside of me. I am proud now to look in the mirror at my shapely hips, my hair flowing like liquorish strands of wool and my lips, full and voluptuous, sweet like honeydew. I’ve chosen to hold nothing against anyone, forgive everyone…but most of all love me, to celebrate my successes and learn from my failures.

People call me by my first name…but only I know the true value of the “Cathy” living inside of me.

By Savaslas Lofton

Power of the Lost Pen

I went to a bookstore one day in search of a place within distant shores
Business, Essence and GQ Magazines welcomed me with a smile, flaunting themselves like fashionable manikins amidst the Christmas Holiday
Though bright, shiny and festive in color…could never tickle my fancy
Perhaps I had been too focused to notice their proposition
I was searching for something simple
As I continued, the fresh crisp smell of books and novels not long on the shelves fixed my eyes
My tradition?
Thumb through the cool pages, let spark an idea and if the story suits my fancy, find a quite place and let my imagination journey
Yet I was dissatisfied
Pondering why disgruntled
To my side lies a pen
Perhaps dropped by one before me
No comeliness it possessed
A simple beat up pen, white and blue in color with some company’s logo fading along its spine
Then I remembered my pad I had packed the morning of in my backpack, which lie, to the left of my ankle while I reclined
I took out my pad and began to write
Ah…then I remembered the origin of my journey
Discovered by this little pen which embraced my spiral pad as if they were lovers, Romeo and Juliet
I wrote and wrote uninhibited by imagination
Each stroke of the pen brought unto me the fresh smell of lilies
The light tap and soft salty smell of rain
Caressed my ears with the sound of children laughing
The touch of a baby’s skin
The clouds presented at my feet
And the roses against my skin
Time had stopped for a moment
People vanished into thin air around me
I had created a world of impossibilities
All made possible by this unknown pen

Written by Savaslas Lofton
c.2008

At Love’s Gate

A traveler walked alone, highway unknown
The mountains surrounded her much like a crowded stadium…there was only silence
The sound of each footstep patterned the pace of time like taps of a muffled drum
Her destination yet unfulfilled
She had come from a town full of hurt, heartache and pain
A town of unwelcoming thoughts pushing her around and aside the very autumn leaves fly in the midst of an angry wind…much torment
She ventured to escape
Love she pursued
She understood traveling this road could be one of chance
A journey that stood chance of leaving her more smitten than before
One she was willing to take
Letting rest and peace be the drive of her life if not reached
The thought alone would leave her contented feeling the journey’s worth
This young woman and people like her are searching, surrounded by a cloud of witnesses from distant places: spectators, predators, and ones whom qualify
Their hearts traveling still
In search of love
In search of peace
In search of someone to love
Be loved…
Finally welcomed at last at love’s gate…the place to finally call home

By Savaslas Lofton
c.2008

The Arrow of Beauty: The Sight of Love

The Arrow of Beauty; the Sight of Love

Botanical twisters like navy crimson tides,
The moon appears sudden with a glow of light
A breeze flows tenderly like the stroke of an infant’s hand
While making sweet music; smooth jazz under the midnight moon
Out of the shadows appears what it seems
Freedom dressed as a bouquet of fresh roses
Her white linen clothes boast free flowing against the wind
Men stand enchanted as she dances and spin
Her hips are rhythmic
Her face so tender
Skin distinctive like the symmetry of pearls
Graceful, cool and polite
Her smile though thin as silk red ribbon is as bold as the waves of the Mediterranean Sea
Who can stand against her without surrendering to her beauty?
Many have succumbed
By the countenance of the brightness and warmth of Eve
It is my friend…the glowing sight of an enchanted beautiful woman

by Savaslas Lofton

Through Childlike Eyes

Through Childlike Eyes
By Savaslas Lofton
c.2008

Imagine your world through the eyes of a child,
Untouched, untainted, unharmed by the world’s system of thought and belief.
Imagine your world without heartache, grief, disappointment, fear of what others could ever do or say to you,
Even what they think of you.
I find as life continues, many search for the path back to normalcy when beauty and playfulness had its place,
Back to a time where the meaning of hatred, discrimination, sex, abuse had neither meaning nor definition.
It was a time of pureness of heart,
A time when the senses were, heighten by beautiful colors of nature,
Remember the place?
It appears into adulthood that someway, somehow we find ourselves on the other side of the looking glass,
Rain sliding down the window pain,
Wanting to break free to a world we’ve only experienced once.
Through childlike eyes,
Yes, I remember.
I remember when I see the child swinging or playing on the monkey bars in the park, with a face that glows like the noonday sun,
I remember when I look into the sparkling of a baby’s eyes as he smile intrinsically searching for the words to say instead of “goo-goo” or “ga-ga”,
I remember when I see my five-year-old son run free without concern; the dangers this world contains,
I only pray he remains protected.
Through childlike eyes,
We strive,
At times tired of surviving,
Trying to stay alive instead of being who we are in a world that desires for us to be otherwise.

Black Hands and Wine

Black Hands and Wine

The potency of your soft, tender lips overcomes me like the sweet sensation of aged red wine,
Leaving me enchanted,
Floating like cradled autumn leaves--graced by the lullaby of a light and gentle breeze.
The moment we kissed,
My mind reminisced,
Resurfaced were the thoughts of cool waterfalls,
The taste of honey and deep rubies of passion and fire.
The smell of your perfume penetrated my senses like smooth flowing rivers.
Your hips boast the deep curves of a bouquet of roses,
Your cheekbones are like the curvaceous slopes of Roanoke,
None to compare to thee my love,
For you are fearfully and wonderfully made.
Here’s a toast to the memories we’ve shared with each other,
Playful thoughts of whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ear.
Our hands and our hearts intertwined like healthy grape vines,
As we made a toast to love,
A toast to us,
You for me and me for you…forever we will always be.
by Savaslas Lofton
c.2008

Pay Attention and Listen

He didn’t know she was fading before his very eyes,
He should have seen the sparkle in her eyes dim like the midnight clouds caressing the left cheek of the moon.
Her lips once smooth with the oil of affirmation and love had dried up, leaving her disappointed wondering if love's flame would ever dance again.
He should have noticed the youthful glow of her face fade as she struggled to stay in the chalk boundaries of her life’s lane.
He was losing her each day,
She uttered not a word hoping he would notice the clues,
She suffered in silence, tormented by discouragement and thoughts of how long rest would come,
Nonetheless, the world spun steady still.
Perhaps she would be just fine if he would just call and say, “I love you” or “I am here for you.”
Perhaps things wouldn’t be as bad, if he had made her feel…well…noticed and appreciated once again.
She wasn’t the kind of woman who was selfish, controlling, manipulative or driven by greed.
She was simple, loving, kind, encouraging,
One easy of conversation, selfless in her giving,
She desired the love she gave in return.
She wasn’t a weak woman,
No, not at all,
Not withstanding, even the strong get weary,
The hopeful most often spar against the feeling of hopelessness.
She was crying out in silence for help,
A hug,
An embrace,
A smile,
A kiss,
Compassion without feeling the obligation of sex,
Needing to be held until rest abode,
Till virtue returned as a dove searching for peace and tranquility.

Written by Savaslas Lofton
c.2008

Your Season Has Come

You have no idea,
The great things that are about to happen to you,
The great endeavors you will do,
How you will inspire others to succeed.
You have only caught a glimpse of all of the wonderful things that shall come to pass,
Sure you’ve cried,
But your seed of success needed water—a small sacrifice for such great success,
Sure you've waited,
But the harvest was not yet ripe.
The dew of the morning signifies a new day,
A fresh start,
Thus, your time is now to arise and shine.
Be strong and courageous,
Fight to win,
Soar above the clouds like eagles.
It’s your time to spring forth and blossom like Cymbidium Orchids,
Bring summer to those yet in their winter season.

By Savaslas Lofton, c.2008
c.2008

Love: My Definition Is...

I can go on and about how you make me feel,
Realizing I would do anything for you,
You’re the sparkle that glistens in my eyes each time I hear your name,
To see your smile means all my pain erased—my hope for another day.
You’re the only one that has stuck with me through all of life’s changes,
Through the many years we have lived--you never left me,
You’ve always been right by my side.
Sunset has come and lo’ I long to turn to see you once again,
The last picture in my mind,
To know that I have known you as a special part of me.
I couldn’t have made it without you,
What could I have done without you?
I would have been better off in a room vacant and cold with much space.
Oh love,
My love,
My life, my all to you I give,
Till my very last breath.
This is true of my love,
This is true of my love…for you.

By Savaslas Lofton
c.2008

Intimate Moments: A Mother's Heart Poem

The first time I sensed your arrival from the heart of God
I knew you were a special gift
You came in my dreams
I knew your name
My patience had often urged me to wait
I daydreamed and daydreamed
Pondering on the day I would hold you close to me
You caused the light in my eyes to sparkle
My emotions wasn’t the only thing you altered
I smile
My hips grew to cradle your tiny frame
My breast engorged them selves with milk
I waited for you
Oh how I waited
My face glowing like the noon day sun
My hair growing thicker by the day
I eagerly waited your arrival
Remembering how we had shared the same breath
You couldn’t say a word
So you shifted in your little world that had been created with love instead
Till all of your fears had subsided
These are the moments I’ve shared with you and will always remember
Now that you’re here
Here is a kiss upon your soft tender cheek
To let you know I will be here for you always

by Savaslas Lofton
c.2008

With Eagle's Wings

For the last five months, life became very problematic for Lamar and his family. Despite recouping from a painful miscarriage of eight months, Lamar was notified a week later that he had been laid off from work, due to the construction company’s downsizing. Feeling trapped by the economic spiral, Lamar and his wife Jackie, sold practically everything they owned to keep from losing their home. Jehari, their seven year old son, volunteered to sell all of his favorite toys, if they would promise to replace them. Lamar and Jackie thanked and kissed Jehari on his chubby brown cheek, gracefully declining the offer. While Lamar worked at night working odd jobs, Jackie, still desperately subduing the emotions from the miscarriage, vigorously worked during the day. They were not able to afford a baby sitter and their recent job relocation had made it very difficult to connect with family and old friends.
Discouragement set in deeper as Lamar sat at the kitchen table one sunny afternoon, thumbing through a stack of over due bills. He felt helpless, fighting the feeling that losing the baby and his job was all his fault. Reaching into his right front pocket with desperation, he pulled out seven dollars and some change. Placing the money on the kitchen table besides the over due bills, he began to separate the change from excess lint. His eyes swiveled back and forth from the bills strewn on the table to the money he had under his right hand wondering if it would be enough for gas and dinner. Feeling overwhelmed, Lamar lightly pulled back from the table, placed his hands over his face and began to cry as quietly as he could so that Jehari, watching Spy Kids in the next room, would not hear him make a sound. All of a sudden, Lamar heard feet scurrying toward the kitchen. Quickly massaging his eyes with his pointing finger and thumb, Lamar wiped away his tears.

“Dad, the movie's over.”
“Oh, okay little guy.” Lamar’s said concealing his face with the rim of his t-shirt.
“Dad, what’s wrong? And why are you covering your face like that?” Jehari looked curious.
“Nothing son. Can I get you some orange juice or something?”
“No, I’m okay. Dad, why are your eyes red? Are you bleeding?”
“No, I’m not bleeding son.” Lamar giggled. “My eyes are just a little irritated that’s all. Hey, why don’t we go outside and play some catch huh? What do you say tiger?”
“Yayee! I’m going to beat you this time dad.”
“I’m sure you will Jehari.”

Jehari immediately grabbed his dad around his wrist, pushing open the glass front door with excitment and anticipation. Before their foot could hit the next brick step, Jehari paused and turned toward his father. With a gaze and a heart warming smile said, “You are the best dad in the whole wide world! I’m proud of you dad. I love you.” Jehari gave his father a great big hug, using all the strength he could muster.

“I love you too son!” Lamar said with pride. A tear from Lamar's cheek softly rolled down to the top of Jehari's head.

Those words, coming from his only son, had injected him with so much life. He had discovered that although what they were going through seemed great, that true love was greater. He found it possible to soar another day with “Eagle’s Wings.”

By Savaslas Lofton
2008

Nubian Pearl

Look at You,
I smile with admiration,
Dark skinned, light skinned, caramel, chocolate,
Sister locks, perm, an afro, weave or twist,
You make me proud,
Proud to be black,
Proud to be a brother.
My wife, my daughter, my mother, my sister, my friend, my grandmother,
Whomever you are whether near or far,
Each time I see you,
You make me so proud,
Proud to be black,
Proud to be a brother.
I know you have struggles; you were designed to triumph,
I know you’ve experienced pain; you were made to love,
Your teeth as white as a flock of sheep,
Your hair flows like liquorish wool,
Your neck is graceful, yet powerful so strong,
Your fragrance is like myrrh, cinnamon and lavender.
No matter where or who you are,
You make me so proud,
Proud to be black,
Proud to be a brother.
So this day I stop to say thank you,
I know that life isn’t always easy being you,
But always know,
You’ve made me proud,
Proud to be black,
Proud to be your brother!

By Savaslas Lofton
c.2008

A Dance With My Lover: My Wife, My Friend

I journeyed with her to a place
A location I have yet to name
Skies of blue
Clouds of white
The sand and sea sky lined my brown eyes before kissing the mountain’s green
I journeyed with her to a place
I still can feel the soft cold sand embrace my feet
The incoming sea enthralling my ankles
We were in a location I have yet to name
But I do remember with precision watching her dance
This was the first time I had ever seen her waltz with the wind
Dressed in garments of white as she twirled with her arms out stretched
I could but help see the little girl I had grown to love and embrace as my own
She danced and danced
I wish you could have seen her
Tilting her head back, her hair hovering in the wind,
She was so care free
In the evening tide it was
The location I have yet to name
I reached for her hand and as I allowed her to twirl toward my bosom
Embracing her between my biceps I felt her body snuggle against mine
We danced and danced until we had an audience with the stars
We danced and danced until the moon bowed before us in its place
We danced…
Danced until we were both moved with sensation, tears filling our eyes with joy
This was the first time we had both known love in its pureness
No one wanted to hurt the other
We just wanted to dance
Dance in a place unknown
A place where two hearts will rendezvous forever

By Savaslas Lofton
c.2008