Gossamer silk to sweep into sweet surrender.
Your prayer to me.
The summer days we lazed, so comfortable in our solitude.
For your melody made my harmony.
Now I play alone.
How ribbons of light played upon your skin, peeping into velvet trysts of passion.
Of subtle glances; reaching for solidity, for understanding.
For fingertips that laced so perfectly within your own, crafted to fit.
Memory is all that is left, my only lover.
And so I spin, pulling your scent about me.
The old battered jacket all you left.