Movements Never Heard
You are burnt in my being.
These small lines around your mouth,
full lips brushed in wild gouache strokes
Eyes of Prussian blue, aquamarine gems
to quench fire, to evoke thirst....
In fidgety sticky nights you are draped
around me, wrinkled in rosy lines drawn
over my chest, engraved in my foggy mind
My inept fingers on your violin strings, my loosely
threaded bow stroking your hair,
caressing your meandering frame, while I hear
soft chimes in your voice, symphony with
movements never heard but deeply felt
You are burnt in my soul.
***
May 4, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
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