Melanie Simms

Isaiah

He arrived at irregular hours
to take her sailing at sunset,
or for whirlwind-sex on mountain tops,
or to dance with fireflies,
angels.

She never knew when he's return,
appearing in and out of her life
like a fickle ghost,
but she was seduced by his madness.

In their hours of passion, lying skin to skin,
Breath to breath beneath a grinning moon,
She found comfort just being.

But one day Isaiah didn't return.
She found her key beneath her welcome mat,
and a note that said simply,
"Gotta run."

One morning while she was looking at their photos
of impromptu trips to admire rainbows
or make angels in the snow, he was back.

He begged her to let him in, pleading
that this time he might stay forever.
He brought her a gift, a white rose, a symbol, he said.
And she said, yes.