Sunday Afternoon

Moist, pressing, warmed air;
Heavy with the scent
Of love's expired, rapid,
Now resting breaths;
Wrapped in silken cloaks
Of one another's skin.

This Sunday afternoon,
In heaven's corridor
Where faded, musky drapery,
Shades cobwebbed windows
And shafts of winter's sun
Play softly on your brow

Blissful cocoon, so safe inside,
This otherwise, restless world.
Let not movement,
Nor deeply drawn in sigh,
Tear apart this
Impenetrable, yet fragile,haven

Capture this feeling
Held, buried deep in memories
Against a day when
Spells could break
And memories are all we have
Should love decide to flee

© 2 Sept. 2001
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2012
About this poem:
A past love ... after love decided to flee.

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Comments (2)

Fellsman
Hi umfazi

A gentle poignancy in these lines, you express misgivings without recourse to bitterness - a fine write.

Bill wine
umfazi
Thank you, Fellsman
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on Nov 2012
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