Letters from the Dead

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Thu, 06 Nov 2014
  • 1251 reads
4 comments
 
Snatches of lavender light
strafe the room as, incumbent,
you lie – thumb in mouth; moments 
like these I like to look at you,
asleep and dreaming, perchance,
until poetry no longer matters
anymore; you are that unfinished
line...that word, that simile 
for completeness.
 
The world goes away, somehow,
although it doesn’t really. I think 
of your future sans me, of world peace, 
of global warming, of your going
out in the snow without a coat on,
or in the sun without a hat...and
not just on the beach at Jaywick...
sand-castle building – heaven forbid.
 
I think about other things, too...
but mostly how happy I’ve been
since you came along and I pray
you never get your nipples pierced
least of all your tongue, 
 
and as for tattoos, I know I’m not
the one to talk, but yours, I hope
would be tasteful, like mine, and 
your lovers, because...yes, in time
you will have them, one day will enjoy 
the journeys they take, and the stories
they’ll find in your skin. The best-selling 
novel, never written.
Certificate 12
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Spiritual
Love

Comments

Submitted by Shannan on

... pictured your hand on the cot and the love of a family member related to the precious sleeping jewel of hope. Always a pleasure to create my own images from your descriptions as they are never didactically given. Stay fabulous! $

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Shannan - your words, gems. Thank you for them.

Tina

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Wonderful, your words feel like a blessing.

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thank you, Philip.  Such a lovely thing to say.

Tina