More Than Living

I wrote the poem below about 11 months ago.  I was thinking about off-the-grid living.  I do that from time to time and romanticize it.  In the winter I imagine hiding away in a cabin deep in the woods.  Buried by snow and unable to come out until it melts by spring’s kiss.  In the summer I think of the beach, the ocean.  Living next to it’s lullaby of crashing waves.  All until the fall’s crisp whispers pull me back to real life.  The only thing I’d require in either scenario is someone to make me wish the season would never end.

 

I would like to find a home by the water

Nothing of any size or grandeur.

Something small,

the size of a kitchen

Something simple,

a table, two chairs and a bed.

The smaller the space the closer you are to me

The closer you are the more alive I feel.

When I wake I hear the waves and

See the sun glinting off the ocean’s blue

Or I can merely lie close and hear your slumbering breaths

And watch the dawn on your face as it rises

Or the stars in your eyes before you fall asleep.

We’ll have no windows

so we’ll have to huddle close

And trap the heat of our bodies

under layered covers.

We’ll have no luxuries

except each others taste and touch

I’ll recall the way your body moves

And chant that spell each night.

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