He has grown tired
of tracing her silhouette
through sheer ivory curtains
as she bows her head
in pastel whispers
of the shadow cast
when the moon hides
behind clouds of silver lining
He no longer wonders
when seas shall calm
as sails weather the storm
of rose colored thoughts
or dreams of any color
dancing in his head
He lives in gray
looking over his shoulder
draped in illusion
and when you look in his eyes,
there is only emptiness.
When the song is over
and the needle skips,
not even words
can make his heart flutter anymore;
He, who spoke of love
in utter fascination
who tasted kisses wild
in his multi-colored imagination.
He, who knew the soul
of a woman
undressing her ivory skin
in restless anticipation,
those ears inhaling sounds
of joyful jazz
now, sleep in silence
Spinning his wheels
the carousel ride is over
as he writes his last poem.
Gold trophy winner
Honorable mention
Bronze trophy winner
Adding your comment:
Sighhh...What a mournfully beautiful poem, Lynda...Such inherent sadness throughout each line, it makes one weep upon reading each subtle tear that stains the page...I chuckled at Rich's comment, though; yeahhh, like his Muse will EVER leave him alone, even after his bones have turned to dust...
Gorgeous & sorrowful, my Friend...I'm sorry you penned it so well, Lady...
