A place for prayer.
A Poem
Published on May 2, 2008 By Hazel Target In Poetry

I stood framed in your doorway,

arms like Samson side-to-side

braced against the collapse

of fragile resolve.


Warmth and apprehension

settled easily into my step

and when I finally reached you

I found I was holding my breath.


You were so peaceful

in your cloth cocoon

that when I touched, I touched gently

so as not to tear the fabric of dreams


or stretch the parameters of slumber.

Your body responded sans regard

for mind’s consent; extended

abeyant like a cat relaxed in mid-stretch.


How could I express my affection

as I reacquainted myself with

every muscle and bone?

Your body is


The tension of comfort and desire;

the final work of the author;

the masterpiece of the creator.

How could I help but savor?


Your hair was the color

of Niagara in the fall

when tannin-laden leaves

stain it autumn’s auburn,


still shower-wet beneath and for a moment

I was digging in damp soil after heavy rain

planting seeds of comfort in the rich earth;

I thanked God a thousand times in that moment.


And then your mind joined us,

slowly like an emerging Monarch,

and we spoke of the things

that had kept me awake.


on May 02, 2008


I loved this.

Nice imagery, clean feel, very good.