Gouda

On avalanche:
with a twinkled eye,
diamond gaze down mountain side
drifting flakes, she sleeps
when she wakes will she see.
i missed a moment and on return
I felt blind in her presence
felt myself twisting through brine
gasping
lost in heat and swirled
bubbled memories slip through rippled
waves
there's an image in the mirror I hadn't seen before
I slip to knees
unworthy
what changed you
or was it a change in me.
the book doesn't read the same
if I see it your way.

i feel a name slide off my tongue
and splash into sweet, slippery jam
is it stuck there
to be spread on toast
and devoured between sips of tea
or does it linger
only for a moment
and escape.