It was a remarkable sight
to be seen,
how it roamed
through the shadows
of delightful night,
soft as seahorses
moving through
the secret blue
of the spirit.
An angelic presence
entered the room
with whimsical touches
of grace.
There was nothing
like summer light
leaning gently
against the first breath
of autumn.
Your face lit
like Christmas trees,
like children on summer break
searching for wonder
in the space between
What was imagined
and what finally arrived.
If the sweet breeze
could touch the heart
the way you did last night,
some part of me
would ask it
to return forever.
When you kissed my neck
and nibbled my ear,
the sensation awakened
places in me
I had considered bleak,
despondent,
quiet,
untouched,
and perhaps too sacred
to be disturbed
by anything less than worthy.
It was a miracle
on Thirty-Fourth Street,
but grown,
luminous,
and very much aware
of its own timing.
A sacred illumination
moved through the soul
that had waited,
not from fear,
but from discernment.
Because some things
should not be rushed.
Some doors
should not be opened
for anyone
Who does not know
How to enter with reverence.
And then there was you.
Sexiness met sensuality.
Tenderness met fire.
Two souls rose
in the copious rhythm
of poetic justice,
rejuvenating what it means
to love
without pretense,
without rancor,
without dragging
antiquated sorrow
into a room
where grace
had already swept the floor.
We fell in love last night,
not recklessly,
not blindly,
not as strangers
begging the stars
to lie for us,
But as two adults
who had learned enough
from past indiscretions
to recognize
the cogency
of something honest.
No excessive narration
was necessary.
No commentary
needed to explain
What the body
already understood.
Just autonomy.
Just alignment.
Just two people
standing fully
inside their own
predispositions
and proclivities,
with no shame,
no apology,
and no need
to appease
the ghosts
of what came before.
We felt the sensual smoothness
of innocence
returning,
like the gliding spirit
of the sea
remembering
It never had to fight
to be powerful.
And the hitch was hatched
with the normalcy
of knowing.
No masks.
No rehearsals.
No fallacies
dressed as romance.
Only the quiet candor
of recognition.
So here we are,
finally,
saying yes
to the engagement
of oneness,
not because we are perfect,
but because something
between us
became spacious enough
for love
to breathe,
and intimate enough
for the soul
to say,
I remember you–
© 2026 Sherley Delia. All rights reserved.
Healing Majestically 