Memories On A Sunday Morning..."

Life paused - really, it did.

“Memories On A Sunday Morning…”

 

Tis a chill and rainswept day til just now…

life just paused.

 

How goes your week's end so far?  Something new behind your eyes?  Melodies and dreams?  Do you dream - for real now …do you?  And what flavors them?  Would you "touch" them?  

 

Sigh… 

 

Thought-full rain

echoes within

as each sky-tear flows

the intervening walls

and I …I… imagine

what it is to dream -

dreams of thoughts,

thoughts of dreams

and dreamers …dreaming

of softness

of tender moments - memories

of fading times

…and peoples' echoes

and what is the touch of fingertips trailing

across breathless lips…

the taste of closeness,

the lidded eyes burning into

…mine

and how hard it IS

to remember how to breathe,

when to breathe

- and even IF you ever WANT to breathe again.

Such are rainswept moments

as sky-tears flow

…and the coffee sits

lost and forgotten.

 

Chris

Author's Note

Feel free

Reviews

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Such a forlorn feel to this one Chris as the protagonist begs a rhetorical question knowing it is they who feel adrift and at sea. Sunday bloody Sunday indeed!

[Chris]

Heard there is a blizzard to the west of me... can't wait to make snow angels...

[John Alexander McFadyen]

For me me dear Sir its sand in them there angel's eyes!

[Chris]

Life's a beach with a riptide runnin' way to close to shore...