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 1111 times
Written on 2008-12-29 at 10:47

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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