The me and the my time

This is her time, neither light or dark
that inbetween where shadows whisper,
floorboards creek and the drapes
flutter from an unknown breeze.

This is her time, leaving the cocoon
of cotton tilled through a night of dreams
and a lone feather floats, whisking wishes
to settle in a slow waltz with the dust motes.

This is the me and my time, she sighs
and the tiles are cold beneath her feet
but they make her feel alive, and she is
in fabrics from nature, never synthetic

she lights a fire in the stove of her desire,
sips coffee, deep and dark and opens
the door where the river sings
and a kind of hell of paradise is slowly
showering her in ashes of stars.

This is her time, between two worlds,
watching leaves rustle, telling secrets
as tears cry from a sort of heaven
the one hidden from view, the one that hides
in funny little corners and crevases
the one you find in your mind.

This is her time, her wills and wishes time,
the time where heat sleeping skin
tingles in the rush of morning breathing,
the echoes of sea creatures and monsters
as they retreat and she sips coffee
trading secrets with ghosts and smiles

this is the me and the my time she sighs
and the wind catches her throat
and looking down she sees the trails
the entrails, as slowly like yarn
she winds them in, watching the river
slink away on its lonely course.



Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 892 times
Written on 2015-12-10 at 20:16

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Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Set to a moody orchestration Madame Maestro, perfectly set.
2015-12-12


one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
This is amazingly good and engaging. You entwined "her" and "me," and the images are fantastic. There are so many phrases that are worth reading over and over, and the whole of it is great, so please don't tell me it's "tosh!"
2015-12-11