When we wed
On the window next our bed
We placed lace curtains.
We both agreed
That season of our lives
Called for the gift of lace
To flatter, to beguile the eyes.
Into our lace-hung room
Sunshine cast soft images
Of leaves and flowers,
Filigrees and buds;
In the moonlight
The space became our secret bower
With shifting shadows on its walls,
Passionate possibilities.
This morning, on an idle whim
I pulled away the drapes,
Uncovering the dusty lace beneath,
And thought of you, those days, those nights.
©2018 John I. Blair, 7/10/2018
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