she goes to the river,
a quiet stream,
blue green crystal
seeing into the bottom of
infinity bearing fantasy
tied on lines casting
into the gentle waters
breaking one small swell
into ripples from shore to shore,
nibbles here and there
watching, waiting, wishing,
desiring more of the lady's
handtied beauties,
too tempting to resist.
 
snap it up hook and all,
spinning under the spell
of her mastery,
fisherwoman extraordinaire!
creator of dreams come true
hung on virtual walls
for all to view.
take a number and wait
for the best meal you've ever ate!
food for the mind.
fire for the soul.
 
but when the lights go out,
and the doors are closed,
and the sign Please Come Again
is posted on the front door,
it is with me she lays
her beautiful head,
arms wrapping in warmth
and devoted embrace.

for the writer to the world
is the lover to me.
the partner for life.
and I am hers devotedly,
bound by love and time
that extends beyond anything
we can touch or feel.
it's braided between our
two hearts.
it is what is real.