240/365/Poetry and Form

OK. I was really trying to avoid this (despite threatening to use it early on), because I wrote it in college and it’s kind of embarrassing. But I'm getting desperate to fill out this month. So here it is. Sestina: Herstorical.

My lover offers dreams for me to keep

though fleeting, for they’re here and then they’re gone.

Rare moments cradled in his arms, I’m safe,

while knowing this will fade, as does the night.

His needs reflect those that he finds in me

and yet the image cracks, distorts with time.

My lover and I oft’ ignore the time.

Only in adventuring we keep

appointments of no hour; calling me

are trails and trees and streams before day’s gone.

Sun sinking low, the day folds into night.

Our fire’s crackling glow now warms us safe.

My lover keeps a distance to be safe

from what he knows is bound to die in time.

An island in the day, but in the night

he needs a warmth he’s unsure how to keep.

Fulfilling his own prophecy, he’s gone:

now free from all uncertainties with me.

My lover finds what I have lost in me:

a worthiness I’ve locked up in a safe

’midst souvenirs’ sharp edges, not quite gone.

Friendship exposed, a different way this time,

dares me another memory to keep;

enjoyment of this solitary night.

My lover sings his love song in the night,

hands caressing first the strings, then me.

Our voices join to share the song, but keep

harmonic distance, consonant, yet safe.

In bold allegro we embrace cut time,

fermata before accompanist is gone.

My lover paints a world where doubt is gone.

His oils and pastels illume my night

in colors that refuse to fade with time,

in hues defining spectrum that is me.

With nearby guards, our canvas might be safe,

but only the experience we keep.

            It is night; my lover is with me.

            Defenses, gone, a feeling that is safe—

            contained in time, yet an eternal keep.