A wall of white masks the evening sun.
Such an abundance of beauty,
A plethora of imagined snows
Piled row upon row,
Tier upon tier,
For idle passers pleasure.
I’ll miss you in the summer
When emerald filters the daylight
And the world lacks your subtle bouquet.
I think I’ll tarry beneath your boughs a little longer,
And soak in the early evening
As your guest.
For the last day of #NaPoWriMo.
Painting by Caravaggio detail
A baby hand clutching my finger,
A kitten opening blue eyes,
Kingcups on the riverbank
When the spring floods ebb,
Petals unfurling in flags of perfume,
A glass of wine on an evening terrace,
Your hand touching mine,
So long ago,
Making silent promises,
That only now I see you kept.
Days like today I feel her so much more. Like she is squeezing my hand a little tighter, like she needs me more than my heart aches for her already. As if her spirit somehow craves to touch me. The air smells of her and the sun is like a blanket she wraps around me holding us closer than ever before. It overwhelms me, the feeling of her. I know she is always near me, yet today she crawls a little deeper inside. My eyes fall shut, I feel her cheek pressed against mine and without a word her breath becomes the wind. Rain falls through the sunlight glistening across my face flushed dizzy with dreams and then disappears…I don’t want to leave this moment of sweet desparation. This feeling of her need fulfilling my hearts desire to give her everything she has ever wanted before she slipped away…before she…
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