Passion spent on ragged sheets.
The heat,
of an afternoon
in an anonymous room
void of softness or love.
Touching the skin, you have never
walked in,
conjuring the intimate
in a lie so intricate,
it settles like a stone.
Do we let this cup pass us by…
give it another try?
Search for transcendent grace
in some other face,
or simply let it lie,
quietly, like a sleeping dog.
Breathing in a gentle fog,
that sometimes lifts
revealing arcs of bliss,
from another time.
That moment when life was young
and love so gently sung
through naïve limbs,
warmly nestled in
to the place you called forever.
About the Creator
Michèle Nardelli
I write...I suppose, because I always have. Once a journalist, then a PR writer, for the first time I am dabbling in the creative. Now at semi-retirement I am still deciding what might be next.
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More stories from Michèle Nardelli and writers in Poets and other communities.
How the Harvest Mouse Came to Suisun Bay
A long, long time ago there was a family of harvest mice. Mice are common, but these were unique – born to those who had lived in the salty, marshy bay for many generations, these mice ate and drank from the sea as well as the land and rivers. For generations, there were only the southern families, scattered along the marshes of Corte Madera and in the San Francisco Bay (U.S. Fish & Wildlife, 2013). One family, however, would undergo strife and conflict before reaching a whole new world. What became of them after is another tale entirely – but this is how their story begins.
By Taylor Inman6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Thanks for reading the poem - would love to see some of your work too - Best
I like the melodiousness of some of your words. Work on imagery in order to make the content as engaging as possible. Well done!