Against Your Skin

Rain is falling on this Aspen wood,

Telling me that everything is good.

We don't need a system or a phone,

We are finally feeling all alone.

Standing right behind you in the dim,

Hands are resting gently on your hip.

They are resting right where they belong,

Like the final notes of a quiet song.

Your hair smells just like that shampoo,

From the shower that was made for you.

So very slow, baby.

Don't need a sound.

Slow, baby.

We are found.

No more spirits and no more screens,

Living out what all of this means.

Every single vow is in my touch,

Because I don't need to say too much.

Not pulling and I am not grabbing,

Just feeling everything that we are having.

Every promise that I made today

Is resting in my hands this way.

Right against your skin so warm and soft,

We are lifted high and carried aloft.

Let the hours melt into the grain,

Washed away by the steady mountain rain.

Every pulse is a promise kept,

While the rest of the weary world has slept.

No distractions pull our focus away,

Just the quiet gravity of the end of day.

My fingers trace the memory of your frame,

Without needing to whisper or speak a name.

The timber creaks softly under the storm,

Keeping us safe, keeping us warm.

Slow, baby.

Don't need a sound.

Slow, baby.

We are found.

Every inch of the distance disappears,

Dissolving the weight of the coming years.

Just the cadence of breath in the quiet room,

Chasing away any lingering shadow or gloom.

You lean back and the circle is complete,

Two quiet rhythms starting to meet.

No performance, no armor, no pretense here,

Just the truth of holding you close and near.

Through the window pane, the dark valley sleeps,

While the rhythm of the weather builds and creeps.

We are suspended in an amber-lit space,

Where time has no power and leaves no trace.

Every breath you take is an anchor dropped,

In a world where the rushing has finally stopped.

There is nothing to prove and nowhere to run,

Underneath the grey of the hidden sun.

Just the friction of warmth against the chill,

As the forest outside grows deeper and still.

Slow, baby.

Don't need a sound.

Slow, baby.

We are found.

Let the shadows lengthen across the floor,

With the heavy wood locked on the heavy door.

No echoes of industry reach this height,

Only the steady pulse of the mountain night.

My palms flat against your sides, secure and true,

Translating every single thought I have of you.

Not rushing the moment, not asking for more,

Just anchored together on this cabin floor.

The fire might fade down to a quiet glow,

But we’ve got nowhere else we need to go.

Rain on the roof.

No phone.

No system.

Just you and me

In this cabin in Aspen.

Every vow is here.

Right against your skin.

Holding the silence like a precious prize,

Seeing the universe reflected in closed eyes.

Nothing else matters, nothing else starts,

Just the steady echoing of our two hearts.

Breathing together as the minutes expand,

With everything promised right here in my hand.

Mmm.