THE DRIFT OF YOUR DAY

 

The Drift of Your Day  

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The beauty of the day unfurls,

A tapestry of light and breeze I stumble into,

Lost, distracted,

My senses spinning delirious—

Sunlight spills through leaves like molten gold,

Birdsong threads the air with silver notes,

And I’m adrift,

Swept away from the anchor of purpose.

Thoughts of you permeate,

Seeping into the cracks of my consciousness,

A slow flood I can’t dam—

They wash over my to-do list,

Smudging the ink of errands and oughts,

Leaving chores abandoned on the table,

Dishes unwashed,

Emails unanswered,

While butterflies riot in my gut,

Wings fluttering wild,

Stirred to chaos by the echo of your laughter,

A sound that dances through me,

Unbidden, unstoppable.  

I recall the map of you,

The exact placement of your freckles—

Constellations scattered across your cheeks,

A starry trail I’ve charted in the dark,

Each speck a beacon I’d chase through storms.

That smile—

A crescent I’d swim upstream to glimpse again,

Battling currents,

Lungs burning,

Just to bask in its glow once more—

It’s etched into me,

Every contour memorized,

The curve of your jaw,

The dip of your collarbone,

The way your eyes crinkle at the edges,

A gallery of you hung in my mind’s quiet halls.

These details cling,

Vivid as wet paint,

Smearing across the day’s fragile frame,

Pulling me deeper into the reverie of us.  

Untrained daydreams stumble,

Clumsy and uncontained,

No room in their cluttered shelves,

No category carved out for this—

For the sprawl of you and me,

This tangle of want and wonder.

They spill over,

A flood of half-formed scenes—

Your hand brushing mine,

The scent of your hair in the wind,

The weight of your gaze pinning me still.

I’m amused by the pull,

Confused by its strength,

Abused by the scraps you scatter—

Crumbs of your voice,

Flecks of your presence,

A trail of you strewn like breadcrumbs

Through the forest of my days.

Of course, I follow,

A fool tracing your path,

Hooked on the tease of what’s left behind,

Each morsel a lure I can’t resist.  

Rationality falters,

A compass cracked and spinning wild—

It’s you I call upon,

A beacon in this fog of feeling,

Pleading for guidance through the haze,

For a steady hand to steer my decisions.

Draw the line, I beg,

A sharp stroke of demarcation,

Chalked bold across this shifting ground—

A boundary to keep the chaos clear,

To fence in this sensitivity loitering too long,

Its soft footsteps wandering too far from home.

Define the edges,

Stake the borders,

So I don’t drift beyond return,

Lost in the beauty of you,

In the delirium of days unmoored.

I need the line to hold me,

To tether this fluttering heart,

To keep it from straying

Into the wilds where your laughter reigns,

Where your freckles light the way,

Where I’d follow forever

If you didn’t call me back.  

The day stretches on,

Its beauty a siren I can’t unhear—

Clouds drift like cotton torn apart,

The grass hums with the buzz of bees,

And I’m still here,

Distracted,

Butterflies battering my ribs,

Your smile a current pulling me under.

I try to grip the list,

To claw back reason,

But your contours flood my vision,

Your crumbs pave my path,

And I’m torn—

Amused by the chase,

Confused by the cost,

Abused by the hunger for more.

So draw that line,

Etch it deep,

A wall to lean against,

A map to guide me home—

Before this sensitivity wanders too far,

Before I lose myself

In the beauty of you,