The Comfort Zone

There’s a small warm place between us
That will nourish both as it’s used to
Comfort us with music and light, and
Pounding rhythms of drums in the night.
There’s a kiss that will plant the seeds
And grow into a garden with bouquet
Of colors and varieties scented with
Posy-posing flowers, all with the same
Petals, but so different, each one with
A name that cannot be spoken because
It is not known. There’s a touch, so mild
It’s barely felt, that conveys desire too
Deep for words to speak, yet the words
Are not needed here. There’s a pressure,
Growing steadily, that returns to past
Mistakes and triumphs, intertwined with
All the moments of the Now to weave
A carpet of forever under our four feet.
There is a need, a hunger that can be
Fed here. This is a place we will sup
Again and – if lucky – again. But not
So many times to become bored or
Angry at what is not here. This is a
Place to rest awhile between the big
Important moments of our lives, the
Comfort Zone in which to be renewed.

(c) 2005 Salle Hayden