a dusty letter-box lies open;
love notes rest in twilight’s gauzy gleam,
valentines, and dry, forgotten roses,
all faintly fragrant of a bygone dream.
she lifts them, inhaling the aroma
that lingers like a kiss upon the words,
as tears stray through downcast lashes
and wet the pages,
unseen by her.
lost in the echoes of her stolen moment,
she clasps the paper memories to her heart,
her fingers tenderly smooth out the creases;
she longs to mend what has been torn apart.
at last, she stands up, sets the pages falling,
she wants to leave her aching past behind;
her letters lie there, in the tarnished moonlight,
unread by her,
for she is blind.
.
Comments
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Wow. That was absolutely incredible. The imagery in this write was astounding.
I especially loved the twist at the end.
Write on.
~*~SP~*~ -
A beautiful piece...
A beautiful piece; was caught offguard by the unexpected and sad ending; wonderful imagery and a soft, romantic tone - very NICE! --Joe
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Oh yes! As a romantic, I feel love letters if opened, are always "read" in some fashion. Those missives, cards and flowers reached out and touched me.
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woah! i didn't expect that it'll end like this, "unread by her, for she is blind."
this one is nice! =D
it's so sad that she have never ever read those letters, BUT keep it truely. =D
keep it up! =D
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