Black is the colour of my true love's hair

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After a weekend of R&R (sans the romance), I have come home with a burgeoning ache for just that.

Not hot passionate sex, but lovemaking of the kind that you can only share with a true love.

I vividly remember the emotion, the tremendous sense of satiety, peace, fear, passion, and intense desire all wrapped up into one continuous emotion. I could dream then... about a future... about the plural concepts of us and we together. About a small and intimate country wedding, children running wild, dogs, huge vegetable gardens and growing old together on rocking chairs on a lovely countryside verandah. I saw the vision clearly- the fights, the misgivings, the rifts and the bridges that would always help us find our way back to each other- our love and our children.

These moments scare me.

But they shouldn't -at least I know my childish enthusiasm is still alive and I am still open to dreaming my most intimate dreams. Love is the dream of the young and foolish and the old and lonely- the most siginificant contribution to a meaningful existence.

Yet my love is out there... hanging bright like a star in the night...just waiting to lead me home.

I'm ready when you are.


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