she was a flower
neath a too distant sun
as if she were born to a warmer place
pale petals adored the slanted sky
made dreams in the still of night
and dreams made motile roots
folded space in upon time
the vast round world shrunk into
a whirl in winds of change
and the fullness of day
soaked into skin, salt air
aromas that were once so far away
lifted her senses to their heights
she was once- and again- a flower
neath a too distant sun, but now
had felt the side once imagined
echoes of seas and busy seasons
fill the spaces she has made
in loving heart- contained
in wishes planted like seeds
in whispers to a more tender Moon, in
passion flares, rendered tenderly
in butterfly flights of her eyes
2 comments:
I love everything about this poem -it is absolutely beautiful, and still, most of all I am attrACTED BY:
'butterfly flights of her eyes"...
Howard, your words are pure magic....
Well, some things have to be seen to be experienced, because words can be poor messengers, but sometimes words are all we have...thank you
H
Post a Comment