Kirsten Fernandes (Dewar)

Amour 

Love.
The smell of the earth after the spring rains.
The blue of the sky on a cold Highveld morning.
The sun reflecting off of an azure sea.
A fiery sunset.
A baby’s gurgle.
A nightingale’s song.
Puppy’s breath.
Baking bread.
A field of wildflowers.
A daisy chain.
The crisp, freshly minted smell trapped between the pages of a new book.
The silences between the tick and the tock of the clock.

Love.
The spaces between words.
Jasmine in bloom.
The green of water hyacinth.
Snow.
The way a genuine heartfelt smile reflects not only on the mouth, but in the eyes.
Ice.
Chilli.
Feeling full, like there’s a ribbon, a river, a rainbow of colour waiting to escape from inside you.

Love.
The sound of children laughing.
The way your heart skips a beat when he says your name - how soft it sounds in his mouth.
The heat and glow from a banked fire.
Humility.
Respect.
Camaraderie.
Rose petals scattered by a summer breeze.
Happiness so vast, it’s more than your heart can hold. 

Love.
Crosses carried, burdens shared.
A kitten’s purr.
The whisper and sigh of the wind.
The rasp of his stubble on your cheek.
Cocoa beans.
Roasting marshmallows on an open log fire.
Kisses stolen.
Kisses freely given.
Ballet shoes.
How, when he laces his fingers through yours, you can’t tell where he ends, and you begin.

Love.
The lace trimming on a wedding dress.
Sepia photographs, taken long ago.
Old love letters, tied with a scarlet satin bow. 
Seeing a man’s eyes fill with tears on his granddaughter’s wedding day, because she reminds him of the bride he married fifty years before. 
Loyalty.
The clamour of passion.
The roar of blood through the veins.
Hunger.
Satation.
Release.

Love.
Friendship.
Belly laughs.
A scattering of stars.
Velvet.
The tremulous sparrow beat of his heart against your chest.
Devotion, unceasing, unrelenting. 

Love.
The smell of his scent on your skin.
The oh so familiar contours left by his head, on your pillow.
Secret places.
Comfortable silences.
The whispered refrains of love.

Love.
The knowledge that, here, you belong.
There's so much more to love than just a red heart.

Kirsten Fernandes
(c) 2010, all rights reserved.