My body buckles under tired hours. I am ridden like a bucking bronco by time. I am broken by the arrow of time as dreams of my long deceased wife waltzes in my brain. I am over eighty, and she ascended ages ago.
Still, the touch of her flesh is reflected by my flesh. There is no other land for me to plough. Only one existed for me. Her elbow brushes mine in a dream and her arms surround me.
She must hold that spiritual breath of hers as she waits. I wait as well.
I smile as her face forms a kiss for me. Hold on, I'll be there. It's an unknown.
When the worms are satiated, I will have disappeared into her thin air. It may be a movie finale. Dreams are the true demons of obsession.
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Author:
JDB (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 2nd, 2024 12:38
- Category: Love
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
All that's left these past twa days is mourning over the proverbial fish that got away, this charming beauty so excellently rendered its haunting poignancy eats through the page into the reader, the imagery likewise a breathing entity we must half reckon with to boot. Thank you very much for sharing.
Sharing helps. Thank you for your kind words.
You're very welcome.
A melencholy feel to this poem a sense of missing and a longing for reunion. A strong bond that can not be broken.
Yes. Thank you.
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