Friday, October 08, 2010

First caresses of autumn calmly
sneak into her flesh this crisp morning …
Through curled lashes
she looks at the white
and wonders what happened to the blue,
as she waits for you,
to come home
Seasons have turned
She still has not unlearned
That this love remains and stands true
She digs out her old memories
Her old songs and stories
Her black box
Yours will always be untitled poems
Broken letters
Broken by time
She listens to her favorite singer and wonders
Was it truly unclear this woman
was on the verge of death
this world can be so blind
despair was hardly hidden in that woman's words
like love drips out of hers
She almost can smell your skin
Under the fresh morning dew
her chalk-white skin crumbles
of excitement of what is to come
and under the tree two more boxes
She tied her hair and tied her fate to yours
The day she loved you is the day she close all doors
once again living and giving …
and once again,
it takes the audacity of a woman
but sometimes it takes two ...

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