I Hear Your Voice

I hear your voice, talking to the plants

As the morning sun washes the herbs on the windowsill

You’ve always talked to the plants,

A nurturing, motherly habit of nature,

But you’ve always said, “It’s practical, they grow

When they know they’re loved”

I look up from my papers,

Watching you move as if for the first time,

The robe flowing gently over your curves,

The seamless flow of hand and thigh,

The brown hair, shining in the morning sun,

The smile I had fallen for, now almost forgotten.

You look up and notice me watching and fall silent,

The smile disappears,

Your back turns to me,

And I’ve grown to hate those herbs.

Reviews

[Kelly Scheppers]

...those moments that made us fall in love with each other need as much nurturing and tending to as anything else that grows.

You described her beautifully, Dan...does she know she breathes life to your poetry?

[daninstockholm]

Actually this one wasn't written about me. But thank you so much for your kindness. I always appreciate it.

[Kelly Scheppers]

Silly me. I shouldn't have presumed it was, sorry!

[daninstockholm]

No no. A lot of mine are so It was logical.

[Kelly Scheppers]

...actually, a lot of mine are, too. Funny how they seem to write themselves that way.

[daninstockholm]

i rarely set out to write about a certain subject or event, it never works when i do that,, always feels forced.