In your hands I am made
and unmade. A tiny doll
spun in the circle of your eye.
Tucked in your dimple
the sparkle from my smile.
You feel like home to me.
Like the shore upon which
the sea arrives
at journey's end.
and unmade. A tiny doll
spun in the circle of your eye.
Tucked in your dimple
the sparkle from my smile.
You feel like home to me.
Like the shore upon which
the sea arrives
at journey's end.
posted by burning moon at 2:01 PM
7 Comments:
How exceedingly lovely this is Moon.
It is so gentle
soft like a summer scented breeze.
nicely done
Thanks Chris. I've had it half done for days, but no ending. Then it just popped out late last night.
In your hands I am made
and unmade.
A striking intro, and seemingly at the same time... soothing. ^_^ The whole piece flows, water-like.
Hullo. My first time here to comment, though I've been reading your poetry for a couple of nights now, enjoying the read immensely. ^_^ Do write more.
Cheers.
hello :) I've had your blog bookmarked for a long time now too. You write very nice stuff.
The challenge of the Moon.
Lapping
the wavelets
ripple across us
You sing to me
on the incoming tide
a voice carried
in the wing of an osprey
carving the sky alone
I have felt your face
within my hands
sifted through the
curve of shell
to pour onto my palm
and shimmer into the
glare of morning
infinite crystals
spreading on my skin
to cling
then wash away with
the sunset tides.
Across
the transient waters of internet
we slowly stoke
each cupping of the hand
embracing the sky
the sea
the way we should have been.
ohhhh you've got me making silly cooey noises. How lovely! Excellent!
I am glad you liked it,I await your creation *smile*
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