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
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
posted by burning moon at 4:16 PM
5 Comments:
This is simply gorgeous
Can you post/send me the image?, I'd love to see what it was based on
hmmm, lemme see ... will try to post it.
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?
Yep, I can see it, its a very good image, I always enjoy seeing the inspiration behind poems like this,thankyou Moon, appreciate it.
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.
Post a Comment
<< Home