Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Intimate Hour

The candle sheds light
like the face of a clock
unraveling hours across
the tablecloth.

The cup of wine you hold
becomes a black well
without a wish,
beside the glow.

Our fortune rests
in the upturned
palm I cradle,
as though our hands
are frame and picture,

as though a bird
flew overhead
and captured our futures
in the instant of fusion.

from the picture Intimate Hour
by AnnaKarin Glass


Blogger Chris Never said...

This is simply gorgeous

Can you post/send me the image?, I'd love to see what it was based on

4:21 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

hmmm, lemme see ... will try to post it.

5:13 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

ok, it's posted, but the stupid "advanced new" google format isn't showing it to me. Hopefully it'll turn up sometime soon. Can you see it?

5:57 PM  
Blogger Chris Never said...

Yep, I can see it, its a very good image, I always enjoy seeing the inspiration behind poems like this,thankyou Moon, appreciate it.

6:19 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

You're very formal today :-D

It's always interesting to see how someone else's mind interprets an image eh?
Interesting to see where it takes them.

It's a stunning day here. Blue sky and sunshine. Very cold though.

7:12 PM  

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