My religion began in Houston

Here is a quick poem I wrote a while back.  Good memories getting me through tough times. 🙂 Let me know what you think!

    There are times when
Houston comes back to me.
Flowing water curtains
the outer glass, its thunder
the only sound I hear
besides you.
Feet swaying in
chlorine water, I can only
imagine the smell of the rain
and you.
A comfort smell, shear
strength and a hint of Axe.
The smile washes over my face
recalling your tone of voice.
How silly I thought you were,
your desperation to hold
the sound of me
just a moment longer.
But it was time for dreams
of showers on Palm Sunday,
holding hands under the pews.
You listened to me then,
eyes closed and fluttering.
Now I sit in the fading sun,
clinging to the words typed
on the screen.
The distance is different now.
Your concern for distance is
my concern for frequency;
once a week is not enough.
But patience is the religion
that has kept us strong.
My memory gives me
belief to carry on,
and you are the church
of my faith each day.
And so I pray,
as I lay me down to sleep,
under the covers with you.




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