A moment,
A thing so small
It nestles,
Gently,
In the palm
Of a curious child's hand,
And, like a feeling examined,
Escapes deftly
Between enclosing fingers.
Yet, here I sit,
My face cradled
Snugly against your chest.
Savoring each tick of the clock;
Again,
And again, I see
The second my cheek
Settles into the intimate
Warmth of your embrace.
In a moment,
This place
Will tack away
On the currents of time,
Heeding not my desire
For it to stay.
A contest entry
- don't rush 2 by layla..
300 points, ended October 26, 2007, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Adding your comment: