Traces of Love

“Hearts live by being wounded” 

~Oscar Wilde

You are the vapor trails

engraved upon
the blue vastness
of my vacant heart.

Traces of lonely spirits,
searching souls
converging
if only
for mere moments.

From zero to heaven
in four ‘o seven,

under a full moon
over Sunset House,

from Amsterdam to the Allegro,
the home of Blues.

You are the scent of Michael

wafting seductively
through sultry midnight air

from an unlit candle.

Brass gecko on the wall

dispassionately guarding
the Navajo rug
from 10,000 waves…
we never got there.

Now I am, and we are
remnants in your drawer;

with matches from Casanova’s,

the long ride at French Lick,
a weekend at Sunshine.

These and other soft,
sensually sated,

meandering memories
whispering
“we were”

Copyright © Henri Ferguson 2003

All rights reserved.

Personal anecdotes as I sift through the remains of two souls colliding, converging and diverging. In the final analysis as Jesse Winchester so aptly states,”that’s what makes you strong”, these traces of love.