Two stuttering fingers wrote my love
Spent the embryonic total of my thanks
In its selection
Unglazed fondant limbs
Still damp where His Finger pressed a form
Smote my heart in pale perfection
Gazed we two a while in separation
I had offered then and would not steal
A breathful of the fragrance
As a child would purchase
From the mother’s purse
And then bestow a trinket to her arm
I had tokened then in link
A sweetness to its source
Returned a gift as memory of me
Yet how it blossomed here
Inside the bosom of some earthly wounds
Elixir clung as inner sense
Equal to its out’ard scent’s solidity
So I went along in fondant smile
As one mellow shaft
Absconded from the sky
Bursting, bartering a secret
That it knew I would not buy
“That thou art, as am I”
Sumangali Morhall
April 2006
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