Not a mirror,
but a stone
gray dense and old
sentient with time
a shape the leaves have borne
in decay, swept around,
drowns
rolling to the deepest part of the sea,
here then weeps
at this transient name,
this word that You and I have agreed upon
with lightening arms
and fingers made to fit
to sling at some barn door
some surly bees
high up in a tree
to mold to cut to shape
to throw away
to remain
while we melt with passing days
hoarding labels
and touching in its shade.
Author notes
desiderato as Beloved.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Ethereal
Lovely
I knew I would find comfort in your words tonight
Thank you
Lilac Moon
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a very good send up of one of my all time favorite writes
nicely done
m
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You are not lately what I'm used to...
Not that it's a bad a thing....
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I do love the soft quill you use lately, the images and the curl of the words just spell love no matter how you read the story.
C
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This about the Goddess and the Poet. The Goddess when she is not the hag or the crone but lovely and childish and somewhat playful and is showing the poet affections that he can't get enough of. She can be tricky can't she. One minute like this and the next forcing words out of you you can't even bear to think about.
It is very beautiful and close and not clever or slight at all. And of course I could be entirely wrong about what I think it is about but that is what I think it is about.
lightning arms and fingers made to fit is so good
but also the barn doors and surly bees.
Your Muse in in love with you these days. We readers benefit from that.
No nits.
Lisa
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