The Spring of my Summer by Tashland

Like an unassuming lion,
He paced around my camp,
And I, oblivious to his scent,
Peacefully, I slept.

This stately beast, with a bellowing roar,
Made his presence felt,
I gingerly marveled at his majestic mane,
Consumed by his intoxicating presence.

Like a sleeping beauty, I arose from my slumber,
He awakened all my senses,
The beast was inside me, overpowering every emotion,
Giving rise to the dormant, the dead, the lifeless, inside my very core.

So I drank from his fountain,
Hung on every word, from his lyrical tongue.
I swam in his pool of dreams; I ate from his sumptuous banquet.
He was the Spring of my Summer.

And as swiftly as a tornado, he wreaked havoc within my chaos,
He ignited my fire,
He handed me the keys to Pandora’s Box,
And expeditiously he retreated.

The waft in the air, still wreaks of his fragrance,
My mouth ravenous, salivating at the thought of his taste,
My heart forlorn and as arid as a desert,
It yearns for the Spring of my Summer.

Tashland is a lover of life, laughter, kindred spirits and the written word. She is discovering ways in which to pour out that which has been locked deep within her.