To Simpler Times

When rose petals
distilled to their essence
so only scent remains;
when fingertips touch naked skin, leave fiery trails;
when you hum softly, unaware,
that's when I recall the quiet in between moments.

Evenings poured slowly, molasses from a jar.
Times spent savoring the flavor of orange
marmalade and buttered scone
at silent dawn,
teacup in hand.

Lovers turned thieves of kisses
and embraces,
of implied promises kept,
or not.
The dawn's the only time to mourn
what we once had.

Still you turn that smile on me,
a touch of melancholy,
of heedless dreams and stormy seas
and pain and drought.
And I recall that we once shared all that
and more.

I watch your naked sleeping folded form
breathe in and out,
the space between the breaths no longer seen
nor heard.

Perhaps it's you and I again, my friend.
A few more years, a restless tune
deferred.

~~~~~
I'm grateful for the suggestions of Butters, greenmountaineer, Tio_Narratore, and HarryHill.