Sunday's Cold Clear Water

Skype…vodka...

A piano bar...

Freshly warmed paper...

Gloves fade their white into cold snowed angels …

Cups of intrepid coffee...

Urban windows and familiar calls...the laughter of freedom

Sound of chance spilling into a broken man's ear...

Warm eyes that stare me back...a bed of leaves and time to lie there...

A tapping at my door...

The wind, playing shrilled charade with branches gum tree...

A walk with the steel-colored sky…

Simple words whispered...warm leg crossing warm leg... 

Pillow smiles...

A postcard's arrival from Pablo

The lingering drip of warm kisses over cold-clear water 

The tide shrugging my rolled up feet...

A cloudy saxophone crying down summer's death…

a violin, wailing the winter’s crib…

The smell of your Sunday lotion...the brush of your hair 'gainst my chest, dangling in our broke up morning...

Eyelashes and falling stars

Willing time back to days of spirals and intimacy

When light served well a meal to curious eyes...

Still, what helps me most of all, my

darling, is this incurable answer

of you.

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Things we hold onto and things we let go are still a mystery to me after a lifetime of doing both. But everything is a choice or a decision, made or unmade, waiting to challenge or change our fate. Sometimes all we can do is hope for the best.

[Betty Hermelee]

Stunning reflections of some of your favorite moments,
Poignant, realities of a Sunday past, perhaps hoping it could back to you untouched…. Your words are soft, rolling together in a perfect shape….”the smell of your Sunday lotion “….unforgettable times you enjoyed so much… oh to re- live them once more…. Love this!
Warmly, B

[Perdition]

So very kind , your words and remnants of what I suppose we all might someday experience… I try to look past these painful lights, so that I might come to a resolution, and maybe even a reason of whatever actually transpired in a higher truth far from two souls who sat across two very different views. Till comes Sunday, the day of polish or a lavender lotion that you know has come from somewhere that she chose just as she has chosen you. Rare as the late summer sun and butterfly where all has gone shy that one rarity now two as one where it breathes inside the heart the one you know will never leave and the leg that crosses the other, cold or in the first light of morning, , wakes you above all else to the memory of a cold water that once woke you to a love, the unspoken language blooming within . Thank you so much for such kind words Betty…will stop by soon and very much looking forward to that.

[Betty Hermelee]

What lovely comments! I thank you….
And you’re very welcome too!
Warmly, B

[Poetic Beauty]

This has a deep sense of longing to me…
Of what was and what could be and could have been. But the thoughts still remain and give a deep sense of comfort over the year

[Perdition]

Ahh..those sweet hopes and grips of the pen and the romance and the last moments we always taste as if a remedy... though certainly a muse. Thank you again Poetic Beauty~

[Poetic Beauty]

You are welcome. You have beautiful poetry whether sad happy or hopeful. It’s all striking and the imagery is always depicted so well

[Alisa Js]

I love the last three lines!

The rest of this one is lovely in how it illustrates and lays out the reflections and remembrances, walking backwards in time ...masterfully done.

There are those special moments in our lives that only sweeten as time passes, and your poem spoke to me of certain ones.

Very well done.

Wishing you well.

Alisa💫

[Perdition]

Hmmm...Now why am I not surprised in the slightest that you, in all the philosoophies, were pulled in by those last 3 lines ..lol. ;) Simply inncurable are you; in every way...Thanks HI~