Friday, October 2, 2015

What I Think

I know
some master once
painted your radiant beauty, long time ago
during the renaissance, in Milan, or the Vatican

I know
you've a symphony
or two, conducted to patrons in Venetian masks
dancing with drunken lovers, courtiers, all fools
and princes

I know
baby rabbits and squirrels don't really gather at your feet
you said you wished they did when I suggested the sight;
to listen to you tell them stories 
before they curl up
in their secret burrows
and lodges and dream
until the next sundown

I know
the touch of your hand as it closes around mine
and we draw each other one step closer
one back, and
one pulling ahead
slicing our way, laughing
across the crowded ballroom


And now
I know
your love is guarded by cold fire and a smile
your secrets are quite safe, open to my shadows;
open, but the shadows cannot touch,
though they ever fall upon you

Because by morning,
they always fall away
and you know that

When the sun rises again
you rise with it
your own shadow caresses me 
and is gone

right now
that's what I know.  



X. Dell said...

For me, these are memories long ago and far away, I'm afraid.

eric1313 said...

I had a refresher. And a lot of this is just deftly remembering conversation from a party I was at with some very good friends of mine. One of them just happens to be beautiful and sweet enough that a poem was easily written.

Not sure how good it is, but I never let that stop me before. :-)

Anonymous said...

I like it... really like it. It's always nice to meet someone who brings these soft thoughts to surface... I liked the part about the rabbits... keep writing... it is very good....


eric1313 said...

I'll keep going, all right. Setting it free once more is not really easy. Retreading old ground is too easy to do, but I have to start somewhere.

Shimmerrings said...

This is new always is...and we write what prompts's the only reason to write...the only honest and true way, at least...which is why we go through dry spells, reshuffling, and rearranging ...what was old, into something fresh and new...

eric1313 said...

And I write what's in my soul, nothing more. That's why it can't be forced.