rebmasters

Bed

A lightly tossed,
ever so soft
blanket
struggles to maintain its
grip on the bed.

Your sumptuous scented presence still
on the pillow 
of this same bed;
was it really only this morning that you left?
I can still see the impression
your dark-haired head
has pressed,
caressed
into the soft surface.

Has it really only been hours?
Whole lifetimes seem to have passed by.
An echoed sigh
whispers in your delicious voice
borne on the wind.
When will I be with you again?

A question I will never ask;
you take your own path
& sometimes wind up here

Comments3

  • Robert Haigh

    A wistful write, tinged with a certain sadness. Ah! The vagaries of love!

    • rebmasters

      Yes - the glory of it all. Thank you my friend xx

    • yellowrose

      Lovely write , ) nice choice of words , flows nicely x

      • rebmasters

        Thank you very much my dear xx

      • L. B. Mek

        'Has it really only been hours?
        Whole lifetimes seem to have passed by.
        An echoed sigh
        whispers in your delicious voice
        borne on the wind.
        When will I be with you again?'..
        awesome, love the book-end
        first and last questioning, lines
        you're really starting to play with form
        and direction, while maintaining your unique
        free flowing - wonderful, signature traits..
        a great read
        thanks for sharing dear poet

        • rebmasters

          Thank you xx. This one was quite a personal one for my muse; the traces he leaves behind, how he doesn't have to come back (but of course I hope he does). I'm glad you liked it ❤️



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