Matthew Lyle Landsman

Sometimes she’d come to me after sunset…

With a fire in her eyes…and even the darkness was but a whim.

She’d look into my eyes, sigh a shaky sigh…then peer right through me…

And there would come that smile, that whisper, that toss of the head, a cascade of shining hair.

And that laugh, part whisper, part pleasure, part victory…and all passion.

Then the silence was all around, but for a ragged breath, a hunger, an urgency.

There too was water, a clinging, a shiver, warmth, and a soft winter sky.

An occasional game of billiards, and a passionate welcome at the door, that took me to place where the tiny deaths beckoned, whispered and ushered both to a place so right, so rare…

Some days there was a journey, a turn behind the wheel of classic steel…and lessons that would take one through journey, after journey…and one day came that drive…to travel for a decade, then another.

And in the passing of time came those moments revisited, those nights recalled…laughter echoes and sighs again warming…

But there was always a desire for the creation of fresh memories, new moments…and bubbles churning in the night.

But mostly an absence, a wonder, a plea in the night…and a fond recollection time and again.

Then one day a quiet and tentative reunion over miles, over years, overdue…

And again I’ve heard the laughter, read words that validate and bring a tear and a smile…And the knowing of things again all but forgotten…

…and I say it again, and again…thank you for answered prayers, for reuniting the one that touched, and the other that felt…then returned the favor…and once more accompanies me on some enchanted nights…

I look to the horizon, to the south and east.  And come evening…I sigh and settle…and hope perhaps for a call…Matthew.