more than i imagined
i am lunar spheres, crests jagged and cooled.
like threadbare linen wrapped round old wounds,
i lay still beneath melted beams, feel his breath
trace beginnings in places long forgotten.
he is water coursing through tributaries
into lakes of grey and blue stripes
over smooth stone.
like new rain dancing on ancient grounds,
floral yawns and sprouts take root.
i am lunar spheres, crests made smooth;
his breath traces beginnings
in places i want remembered.
*for deb who has an affinity for moon poems. :-)
4 comments:
these words remind me of the deep thought found lying in moonbeams in the middle of the night...
I, too, have a thing for the moon; sometimes, I'll look at it and a few minutes later forget what I'm doing.
I love the moon too and this is lovely, I like the 'places long forgotten' becoming the 'places i want remembered'
gorgeous.
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