Love Letters Beneath the Ticking ClockA Poem by Michael G. SmithReminiscing over old love letters
Upon this waning heart thus... I am by wounded deja vu Thy verses victorian script; tempt As rouge lips and scent as roses Spelt out in wet, always tears in morning do
Pages pulled as petals lave From out of love letter boxes The others up above so tide and true Such things, as dust and ache or Laden line shelves which hide the classics Where shadow fights amid the ambiance melting light Shores of Shakespeare, Dickens or Thoreau But, not their words now on thy pages Nor atmosphere; emotion, romance and adventure Which they and thee invite Of seasons well beyond what's long, long ago
And yet, alive as ought... The Psalms of David be Thy very presence prose and Silhouette escapes of thee around this room
All now thou shall ever be My eventide in love letter reading Beneath the ticking clock aglow Hour after hour and with its hands I walk and talk with thee © 2014 Michael G. SmithReviews
|
StatsAuthor
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|