In the realm of gentle grace, where touch meets silk,
A symphony of softness, a whisper of milk.
Smooth, the river's dance on polished stone,
Where currents weave tales, in a rhythmic tone.
Beneath the moonlit, velvet sky,
Smooth is the lullaby the breezes sigh.
Smooth, the pebble embraced by the sea,
Caressed by waves in eternal glee.
A lover's touch, tender and refined,
Silken pathways, hearts entwined.
Smooth, the ink on a parchment page,
Unfurling stories with wisdom and age.
The molten sunset in hues of gold,
A canvas of warmth, a tale untold.
The butterfly's flight on a summer's day,
Silky wings in a ballet display.
Smooth, the petals of a rose in bloom,
A fragrant embrace, dispelling gloom.
In the quiet night, a serene moon's glow,
Smooth shadows dance in a soft, slow flow.
Smooth is the rhythm of a soulful song,
A melody where hearts truly belong.
In the tapestry of moments, where time is soothed,
Ethereal beauty emerges, in everything smooth.
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I First Saw Him
When I first saw him sitting on the wall, relaxed and looking out over the water, I was sure he wasn't a local. Not including children, there are only about 250 or 300 of us in this area full-time, though that number is ten-fold in the summer, and I know everyone at least by sight or by family resemblance. And yet, the way he sat looked familiar and started my mind sorting and discarding among the families I knew, not quite like this one, not quite like that one.
By Natalie Wilkinson7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Your poem was so wonderful! I loved it!