a sunday in november




the soft sensation
of your worn out jeans
the rain falling

a sunday in november
when the words we don't speak
fill the emptiness of our room

the telephone rings
talk to a friend
searching for you in the corner of my eye

the guitarr on a cd
a longing for New York
or just my thought

you in a sillouhette
and I think of Adonis
- a clichè I know
but still -

your hand soft in my hair
when the words we don't speak
fill the emptiness of our room

us two
one and one
a Sunday in November






Poetry by kath
Read 584 times
Written on 2008-12-29 at 10:47

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email
dott Print text




November gave us soft thoughts in Australia but they were surrounded by so many hard heads, nerves of steel, arrogance, hot heads, rev heads, but softness was still found. I also found it here.
2008-12-29



This has a depth of longing it it that is hard to fathom Kath! A great deal of love too. A Sunday in November is a great title. because it could be any day. Happy 2009 to you and may your year be filled with jeans and stroking hair days...

Smiling at you

tai
2008-12-29