The departed

A poem on feelings

The soft fabric of tedium,

On lazy mornings,

Prowling on purple dawns,

Anticipating the coziness of the day

In Delphic utterances.

Me, amongst benevolent thoughts,

Mostly about you.

Ink staining my fingertips

On miscible love

And how I came

To rent the fastidious chunk of my heart

To you.

Without guile,

Salving the other half,

The better one.

Nothing could induce vanity in it,

Or belabour the obvious-

The measure of our intimacy is written

Within the memory of us.

Extraordinary by its absence,

The pungent story that softened and shrank

In the hands of time

Until its golden breath

Turned into dust,

In the smell of sea salt

And chance meetings.

Reviews

[stars are far]

that was well done
keep it up

[Witty Fay]

Thank you, stars are far. you're very nice.

[stars are far]

my pleasure :)