sugar-spun lovers

Aika Adamson

Honey-sweetened lover, 

             gather the orange blossoms in your hands 

             so butterflies can kiss your open palms 

             where my berry-stained fingers painted 

                                      reds and purples on your skin. 

With an early harvest comes an early winter, 

             and, snowed in, the fire is all the warmer by your side. 

             For you I weave blankets and wedding veils; 

                                                    My canvas is never blank, for your smile 

                                                                 is forever immortalized by my hand. 

             Like Sappho, I leave evidence of my heart: 

                                                                 Someone will remember us, 

                                                                 I say, even in another time. 

                          Let the world know how much I loved you—

                          more than the sky is loved by those with wings,

                          enterally as the river carves its devotion in the mountains. 

​

Ethereal and sun-loved like any other untouchable muse,
   a dancing dryad who captivated my eyes upon first sight, 

       I love from a distance, in silence, with only color to comfort me;
       perhaps one day you will see the marble smiles I carved in your image
       and turn your golden gaze onto me.

                          Until then, I shall stay by you in shadow and daydreams
                          as spring promises new fruits from your fingers,
                                       made sweeter by a lover’s gentle touch.