Waiting For You

Sestina

The tangled wood reminds me of your hair -
dark like the night and falling in whispers.
Kneeling underneath the sheltering pines,
I sip silence and stroke the memories.
You have long been gone, and I miss your hands,
slipping through the long sleeves of languid love.

Time is a leaf on the branch of our love,
curled in the corners of your chestnut hair
and falling like sand through hourglass hands.
Wind strokes my back and quietly whispers.
Stars float down a dark sky of memories,
their bright pulse like beacons above the pines.        

Thus hangs the moon, suspended among pines,
promising brighter days showered with love;
but for now, I live in the memories.
I braid a blue blossom into my hair,
its fragrance wafting like weary whispers,
spider-spun silk in the palm of my hands.

I remember how you captured my hands,
held them within the shadow of the pines,
and kissed them soft as butterfly whispers.
It was then that I knew I was in love,
when you gently stroked the length of my hair,
now curled within the moonlight memories.

Moonlight makes magic of the memories,
within the palms of her shimmering hands,
and she sprinkles starlight throughout my hair.
Initials are carved in one of the pines
within a whimsical heart made with love
and sanctified with undying whispers.

The past unfolds in wandering whispers,
ushered through the gate of my memories.
I write a letter of undying love,
hold it like seeds in the palm of my hands,
and plant it with a kiss beneath the pines
as the wind looses a wisp of my hair.

The pale wings of my love move like whispers,
tangling in your hair like memories
captured within your hands beneath the pines.

Reviews

[Pax Analog]

"The pale wings of my love move like whispers,
tangling in your hair like memories
captured within your hands beneath the pines."

I had just been thinking of how finely you weave a gossamer web of whispers when I came to these closing lines, reiterating the subtlety and delicacy this poem presents (as well as your work in general).

This poem is so hauntingly beautiful, an apparent yearning for the past, yet it is titled "Waiting For You," creating an impression of a soul expecting a reunion in heaven, or the next incarnation. Such a love is deeply moving. Both spiritually and romantically, I yearn for such a reality, even to have the treasure of remembering it when it's gone. O I've held a fine pearl so very close, but this remembrance is finer.

Thank you for this treasured jewel of a poem.

[emmajoy]

Very beautiful... this poem is extraordinarily gentle yet, powerfully passionate.

Finely constructed, as always.