The Promise

This poem is written after the passing on of my loved one regarding our love.

A long-lived fool such as I
might just be sipping a margarita
because of harbouring beloved months
of his old brand of coffee.

He promised me he would
take me to Hawaii
because the joy of being
'best friends'
was met with his unshakeable
word on it.

He passed. And we could not
get there. So, it's
cordial cherry chocolates
and me in the raw
slipping into a flannel pair of pj's
following another myth in myrrh
in the Grand Design
as I write this latest novel.

The memory of his radiant smile
warms me,
a god with purpose,
who dances in the embers
of centaurs.

Let him run to me--him--
a feared tiger stealthily moving
toward me.

Pick a diamond-dance with me,
reader,
--me--with a passionate answer
to my waiting for him
as I embrace pink clouds,
a certain unknown destination
in lieu of God's will for me.