She came in gently,
like light under a closed door.
She did not sit or stand.
She only was.
Something passed between us,
not speech, just memory
suspended in air,
like dust in sunlight.
Soon her presence began to thin,
like morning dew,
or the music one remembers
only when the room is quiet.
I did not reach for her.
There are gestures
that exist only in the mind.
Outside, the willow’s leaves
stirred for a moment,
Then, just stillness.
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Author:
Dasim (
Offline) - Published: May 3rd, 2026 19:40
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
This poem projects a definite mood and feel to it that is quite poetic. Nicely worded it is a fave
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