Shannon
Shannon
These three month of time
on my hands, I have waited for you
to call me.
I have not written poetry,
words on paper waited for you
and avoided the line, silenced rhyme.
“Can you find me?”
you text and I become a river, cold,
flowing unstoppable in my haste
to get to you, to circle your waist,
to reflect your eyes for a story old
as echoing water, Solomon’s poetry.
I flow, listening to all my wild
feelings until I find you on the sidewalk.
I want to touch your lips
the way a river dips
into shallows, goes hush, no talk,
for poems are feelings inside, they hide
like stones in deep pools in starlight.
Beautiful.
Lovely —“Words on paper waited for you” and “like stones in deep pools in starlight” are particularly strong, I think.
lovely
Thanks, Jasmine.
Geri, I am happy that you could relate to words and starlight.