They lay together,
she on her back
he on his side.
The open space
between
them
hardly big enough to hold a whisper.
They closed the gap.
The sheet,
lazily
adrift
on their ankles
and calves,
carelessly caressed them
as a cat would relive an itch.
she on her back
he on his side.
The open space
between
them
hardly big enough to hold a whisper.
They closed the gap.
The sheet,
lazily
adrift
on their ankles
and calves,
carelessly caressed them
as a cat would relive an itch.
Years of child bearing,
triumphs,
disappointments
were not available for viewing.
They did not see the ravages
of time
on each other.
Here they did not age.
The moon
walked through their window
to be rearranged
by her lace curtains.
Its speckled beams
fell
upon them
looking like the first touches
of gold leafing
on the statues of Hindu gods.
fell
upon them
looking like the first touches
of gold leafing
on the statues of Hindu gods.
The summer wind tickled the pines
and their needles began to sing.
He touched a point of light on her skin
and a dog barked in their hearts.
2 comments:
Very nice.
I found your post while researching lace curtains.
I enjoyed your poem.
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