Two of Cups
With the patience of the mighty forest oak,
The known calm silence before the storm.
I await the exceptional of special moments.
Feeling the tranquil stillness of predawn.
As you turn your precious face to the North,
Holy man, wise one, proud Celtic to the bone.
I’m calling you longingly homeward my Irish lad,
Homeward to my hearth and a heart beating alone.
Come fall softly into the magical embrace of loving arms,
Hold and rock me gently, my precious beloved, once more.
Reunited, tenderly held, looking deeply into each other’s eyes,
Press your lips to mine my love, the only man that I adore.
©Astarte Earthwise – 28th August 2020