Fay Slimm.

Errant.

 

 

Errant.


Lullaby shush of evening ebb tide
seeps
into late air
as hands
meet to capture clandestine
on deserted sand.

 

Bold footprints in shadowy twilight
appear
from secretive
corners
as recondite hearts deny
errant concordance.

 

Tread cautiously lovers for maybe
time
which orders fate's
changes
will mutate covert deceit
to contrite heartache. 

Comments5

  • orchidee

    Good write Fay. Could I adapt your other poem on 'love'?

    • Fay Slimm.

      By all means adapt my poem on Love dear Orchi.......... will look forward to reading it too.

    • dusk arising

      It always ends in tears. I'll stick to memories of the good times i had while they lasted and look to the future without risk of more of them there tears.
      Mind you, I'm up for a bit of flirting.

      Lotta truth in your words today.

      • Fay Slimm.

        Yes there has to be good times to remember D.A. - it all depends on a stable clandestine eh ? Thanks a load for your visit and comment.

      • The Uneducated O.A.P

        I listened in to a telephone conversation once many years ago using a receiver device, the woman was talking normally the chap was whispering, why are you wispering she said, he replied the wife's upstairs, I'm in the cupboard under the stairs with the door closed! Funny old world, love the poem, Bill

        • Fay Slimm.

          Ha ha - would have liked to have been a fly on the wall of that understair cupboard back then Bill - - talk about clandestine ! - - hope if the wife heard she locked him inside. Hilarious story.

        • Neville

          there is something about the word errant that makes even the hardest of hardliners smile.. or is that a wince I feel forming...…

          You nailed it Fay.... is it true that double agents have twice the fun..... they sure do live dangerously.....

          Neville

          • Fay Slimm.

            Yes "errant" being archaic was nearly dumped at one stage but those crossed fingers got my memory wincing - - clandestine fun can turn insipid when heartache sets in.......... glad you think I nailed it a bit........................x

          • Goldfinch60

            In life there can be many who trade falsehoods in love, not caring just wanting. Fine words Fay.

            Andy



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