Ode To The Maker of The KeeperA Poem by R. L. IvesNot everything is always as it seems
As she lies here before him
his pulse quickens ever so slightly. Oh what a sight to behold. Oh what rapture this brings. He closes his eyes for a moment, catching his breath, This maker of the keeper. A skilled and tender hand fondles and strokes the object of his affection. Admiring this porc'line face, Who's age is shown gracefully with the passage of time. Long, sleek arms that move with a gentle motion. Eyes of crystal so clear as to almost afford a momentary glimpse Into the inner workings of her mind. Overcome with desire to remove gold spun cloak, his mind helpless against images dancing seductively to the quickening rhythm pulsing through his veins, he gently caresses the tips of his fingers over sleek smooth skin. Teasing, manipulating until he frees that which hides her soul, etched with the language he knows. His gaze once again comes to rest upon her while a single drop of love escapes its bounds, running its course over weathered cheek, painted with a crimson blush. The beauty that lies before him is his alone, This maker of the keeper. For a moment he remains motionless, Listening to her heartbeat tapping out a steady melody, bringing to mind stiletto heels Tic-tacking on the pavement as she strolls along side him, He holds her hands in his to warm them, moving together as one. Ahh, the years they have seen, she and he. Safe in the comfort that is born through love on the passage of time. His intoxication is complete though never completely satisfied, For he can never truly get his fill of her loveliness. Finally, with an almost imperceptible sigh and one last gentle stroke of his thumb he returns her soul to its hiding place under gold spun cloak and smiles his knowing smile, this maker of the keeper. © 2013 R. L. IvesFeatured Review
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1 Review Added on March 6, 2013 Last Updated on March 8, 2013 AuthorR. L. IvesMOAboutAfter 371 days living through the hell of my husband’s ALS diagnosis and death, I feel like I’m left without form more..Writing
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