Finale

Here comes the wash of tidal flow,

full moon glow on a starlit night,

your tepid touch returns to me.

A light caress on freckled skin,

impressed by charm and caught with ease.

Convinced that love would break my fall,

my knees were weak, I do recall

struck down with their belief in you.

But unsuspecting grew to gloom,

no room in your sad swell for me.

A sailboat drifts in open sea.

Consumed by fear, I begged my dear

afloat in my own misery,

afraid of life and so alone.

You have the gall to reappear,

tears and years have passed, you're back.

A lack of thought shown on your part,

a move I don't consider smart.

How shallow you now seem in dreams,

my small white sails ripped at the seams,

yet now restored to billow free.

I stand and stare,your eyes remain

a liquid, hazel flecked with brown.

You played the clown so brilliantly.

And I no longer weakened by

your spell or buried in its hell

have learned to sing without your song

resisting you, I've grown too strong.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i must be so infiltrated lately with thoughts of Sylvia...in ways, she could have written this.
How she ran into him after the split...how he still enticed her...how she still loved his writing...and still felt the connection so strong, and then how she finally weaned herself off of that need for him...grew strong enough on her own to get the divorce....but maybe she was only lying to herself...maybe in the end...he was still the stronger force and her broken wings could not be repaired...
anyway...where i am right now, this is how the poem spoke to me...even though, surely, the intent or thoughts of the writer were probably in a totally different direction.
j.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

This is an oldie from the archives Jacob. Like you, I find Sylvia is still hovering these last few days, so I can see where my lines took you. I like that very much. Thank you.

Chris

[John Alexander McFadyen]

A flowing voice of hurt defiance whereby the jilted lady builds herself a moat across which she still sees her erstwhile lover but where the touch cannot inspire her desires. Deeply sad but pathos rich in this Chris. Lovely flow and word choice.

[Chris Shaw]

An oldie John. Brought it out for an airing. Yes it was sad at the time but all water under the bridge and all that. Thanks for your visit.

Chris