The Wandering Poet

Buffy Brinkley on the Things that Inspire my Life, my Pen, and my Heart.

To My Dearest Valentine

on February 14, 2017

It seemed you were everywhere today. Everywhere I looked, I saw your eyes; your smile. They were in the first rays of sunlight and in the prisms refracting with brilliant color upon everything it touched. Your voice was in the birdsong and the soft rustlings of the morning. Your arms embraced me in the wind and swirled around me like a loving dust devil that held me close and drew your fingers through my hair.

In every tick of the clock and in all the microseconds between the clicks, you filled my heart to bursting with love for you. Not a new sensation, no. One made new again with the dawn and a promise of you that trills up the octave scale of my very soul. I breathe you in and I exhale love because it’s what you are. We have learned that every second is a small eternity unto itself. I have shared a million small eternities with you, my love. Were I to lie down and die tonight, my dear, I would not be anything but grateful for you, for I cannot imagine a heaven more wonderful than any of those small eternities we’ve spent.

I never imagined you would love me as you have or that I would love you as I do. It seemed impossible and yet here we are. You walk toward me, your eyes alight with love for me, your smile lighting up the room.  You stand before me; you look into my eyes.  You are as happy to see me as I am to see you.  Your arms go around me and you pull me into your embrace.  My arms go around you and I hold you against me, my ear against your heart, my own beating out a crazy rhythm only you can inspire.  You lean your head down.  We breath each other in. I look up, you lean in. My lips brush yours in a brief contact that sends electricity charging through my system.  Again, my love?  Another brush, lingering in its simple innocence; we both feel the electricity now, magnets from opposite poles suddenly locked together. Has a second passed?  A minute?  An hour? It does not matter. Time is a trivial thing next to love, as we have always known.  I am set adrift upon the ebb and flow of your tide again, my love. This moment, one more small eternity, one more print of time, where you fill my thoughts and my heart.

I love you.

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