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Saturday, November 04, 2006

Bridge of Signs

Porous Prints

Can you think back
to that showery day,
and the first drop of rain
that fell on your lips,
seeping through
porous prints
to melt on your tongue,
and to the wind
that blew moist kisses
on your neck?

And do you recall
that sunny day after,
when the blue
of the sky seemed
to open up its
brightest hues
just for you,
and birdsong whispered
loving words
as you walked by?

That was me.

Dyed Evenings

Can you call to mind
the suffocating fabric
of dyed evenings stitched
with the cloth of
lost souls,
and the relief the
starlight gave to you,
or the comfort you felt
shining down with
the moonlight?

And did you recognise
that man in your dreams
who called your name
and sang it like poetry
into the barks of trees,
promising you that
if love be greater
in spirit than the
distance itself,
love can remain?

That was me.

Bridge of Signs

Can you walk back
to this bridge of signs
that joins all open
spaces to one place
where we are never apart,
and hands can take hold
wherever you are,
as I always hold you,
remembering that love is
the moral to every story?

And will you summon up
the courage to wait
on that bridge with
the rain, sun and moon,
and listen out for
approaching steps
bequeathed by necessity
that absence inherited,
and exquisitely turn
to welcome, knowing

that it's me?

Read more of my poems >>

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© CC License 2004-18. Unless otherwise stated all poetry, prose and art are the original work of the blog owner.