Brooding.
Late sun
refills paling blue vault
as dusk
dulls the saltings.
Low tide
resets quieter mood
as dark
quells my brooding.
Lone chill
reminds as it recalls
and will
'til the morning.
Love thrives
on restlessly yearning
while pen
tries to word your return.
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: May 14th, 2020 01:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 34
Offline)
Comments5
Evening,
sweet evening.
You rich
red blooded
time of day.
Undermining
my demeanor.
Exciting my
desires.
Enhancing
the chasm
you left.
Evening is special as we relax and prepare for bed and the intimacy of closeness when the essence of two is the rawness of initial undaunted love and passion. Impossible to ignore the gaping hole when such is no longer the glue which bonds each day to the next is taken away.
Yes your poem, so well composed cut to the quick this morning. Whilst in empathy my comment was written.
Your pictures are vivid.
A fine write Fay.
Mentioning evening - we may enjoy the lighter evenings, but does our body-clock interpret it that it's not time to sleep until it's dark/night?
the joy of your work is that it transports the reader to another place and this is sure no exception.
Such beautiful time in each day as the sun sets and shines with your words Fay.
Andy
if I was to adopt a pen name, it would most probably be John something... and I would use it only sparingly....
if I was to adopt such a name... I would not be ashamed to place it squarely at the bottom of your page...
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