Presence II

I smell you on my fingers:
wet earth
soil under leaves
amazon rain
dripping into undergrowth
and the pain of growing things
pushing towards light

the bed is warm,
the sight of your dark eyes
brown skin
light hair
flounced upon my pillow
is still here 

silence and a low laugh
breath is quiet
room settling
as the front door
closes and you go
out into evening
and wet skies

the empty space
all peace and white 
fills with worries,
cares, the overpriced
values of our time
eroding you and I
daily as we live
flooding in, that sick ocean,
now you are gone

and with the TV on
my room sits
serene unto itself
as if you'd never been
beneath my hands

the change is subtle
and within, unseen,
that warm land
wet earth
soil under leaves 
falling rain.
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