Unwritten One

She told me to metamorphosise her into words...

Unwritten One.

 

She told me to write her,

To spread the canvas with the variant hue of her persona,

To see her…but from this engenders misnomer,

Never noticed her voice at the cul-de-sac of our little rendezvous,

Caught me unawares, diffused my awkwardness with a slight laugh,

Trying to describe her in minute exactness eludes me…

It’s not the veil,

Nor the sheer sophistication with its fine sinew of dry wit,

It was simply the gift of a life lived to its fullest,

The insight of experience, her Midas touch…

Nonetheless, I will seek to see at her,

Hope for the little exuberance of life escape her pair of fine beady eyes,

And lo, let not our correspondences be like Noah’s doves,

That go forth and bring back no branches of life…

 

Undefined Context.

 

 

Reviews

[Woodland Tearose]

Midas touch. . . well this piece has that. Very deep yet the surface of your words glimmer directly into the soul. A thought provoking write. Sometimes its a bit difficult to tell ones we love how we truly feel about them. Just thoughts. Enjoyed reading.