TIA, bambo

I trust that you’ll

allow me the space

to share my thoughts

for a moment regarding

the uninhibited grace

of your tempt, Love.

The olfaction of

the trip has quartered

me in your arms.  The

sweet aroma of red dusted

roads runs miles through

my mind of memories past.

The sound of your straw

bristles across my stoop,

linens flapping in the breeze.

The warmth of your

beating bossom has grabbed hold

again with the site of your

barren landscapes.  I accept

your embrace, as in years past.

The smoky drip of your

charred flesh, the

gritty swig of your social circle,

a part of which I somehow belong.

With the wave of your hand

hesitation fades

revealing wholesome

sunrises burning like fires

speckling the horizon.

TIA, bamboo.  Welcome home,

my wayward friend.