Supplication

How I have loved the moments with you,
tender, sweet and real – 
how memory makes it ache.

The trace of your finger on my shoulder,
just before your hands move over my bared back.

The possessive curve of your hand on my breast
as your arm holds me against you to sleep.

The love-bruised feel of my lips 
from kisses lingered and lingered.

Two giving bodies pushed to the brink,
one for the other in perfect timing.

Sometimes I miss every deepness we shared –
like echoes out into the canyon.

SJW