After Days Like These

After days like these

I want nothing but the sanctuary of your arms

to wrap me tight in your secrets

remind me that in this world clay

only your breath moves ocean tides

only your heartbeat counts time

and these stories and names are characters

I will remind my self in the autumn of my life

as I scribble down the whos and whats of my days

in silly recollection of comic book tales

you are the reality

your arms are the pages

that hold these chapters tightly

in the anticipation of my explanations

know that these paintings of pasts

can be whitewashed if it makes the story move smoothly

brings smiles to your face

that I can remember as the synapses fire for the last time

I yearn for you

for whatever that word is worth

for whatever that means in the grand scheme of things

you are the realism which this impressionism

of days in your absence strives to replicate

they are names and dates and numbers and fates,

but you, your are my reader

the audience with merit that judges the value of what I have seen

interprets and understands the reasons why I transcribed this particular moment

and not the thousand others I could have written

your arms are calling me home

to the caverns of your heart

wherein I can find the comfort of your breath

and forget my name

instead listen to the echo of how my words

reverberate off your answers

and eradicate the transitory meaning of these moments

call me home from any country

and I will forge passports

bribe any boarder patrol

to get me from these shores to yours

into the depth of your eyes

into earshot of your laughter

pave the way from my door to yours

and I will pay my passage with these stories

and leave myself broke and barefoot on your doorstep

for you to welcome me inside at your convenience

there, I will wait for my postcards to arrive in chronological order

to repeat them for you

to keep us warm by the fire

until it grows dim and fades

leaving us to drift off to sleep wrapped around each other

tighter than sin and salvation

or dreams and daylight

until the morning wakes us redeemed with new horizons

and unimagined countries renamed with our histories

open wide your arms as a beacon

and I will find my home

to you

Copyright 2005 © Christopher Fox Graham