I awake to the soft sound
of slender fingers playing the strings
as though caressing my soul
with his sensual music
each new phrase or run of notes
frees my mind to seek words
to express my feelings
he smiles, stops and kisses me
slowly, deliberately, knowingly
musician and poet -
a match of perfection
our muses melding
long before our bodies
he hands me the diary
not used for it’s true purpose
but as a notebook
each page filled with love
each new day, a verse, a poem
or just our thoughts
captured for all time…
I gaze into the snow globe,
a scene immortalised in plastic,
fir trees, snowmen, skaters,
I shake vigorously
and watch the snow fall,
then glance up and see
bright blue eyes smile
from a deeply tanned face
and wonder
‘will we ever see snow again?’
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
