Keys Rattling in the Night

Late at night, after the thunderstorms, when the birds have fallen quiet
and the only sound are the coyotes echoing gently
through the mountains,

I think of you, your soft voice and the way
you deliver truth with a whisper and a gentle touch.
I think of you and your perfume,

sweet as honeysuckle at dusk, a presence in the air
even when I cannot see you, or touch you.
in the dark or night I lay still. and pretend

the wind bears your essence as it blows soft in the night,
a pretending that is memory and promise in equal measure,
your truth a key that unlocks more than passion,

something more basic, deeper and frightfully honest:
Safety.

Safety to unveil each and every scar and be seen
still as a creature of beauty, without reproach
for all I am not.

About this poem

Safety, to be our beautifully flawed selves, is one of the keys to love, I believe.

Tom