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Click hereOpened, traced memory patterns,
whorls of illusion in first light
above our bed, shaped in the breeze
that yawned, stretched the curtains
still half in shadow, a hesitant
gauze of a smile, still half-asleep.
There’s a pattern in that light
or the call of a whippoorwill,
its gently insistent song~
qui ko wee, qui ko wee
mixes the palette of dawn
liquid pearl, the early gold
of sun, the promise of blue
on my waking face. Here
is a lingering scent of skin
sweet with patchouli, an earthy
tang of tobacco, a you smell
like a familiar ghost present
in the morning motes or a certain
slant of sunlight I read about once
in a poem, grainy words swimming
in layers of its milky photograph.
What a perfect pearl this is. Wonderful language draws one into the peaceful intimacy.
Tess
just quote this:
~mixes the palette of dawn
liquid pearl, the early gold
of sun, the promise of blue
on my waking face. Here
is a lingering scent of skin
sweet with patchouli, an earthy
tang of tobacco, a you smell~
A " you smell", god i love that.
Dreamy half asleep wondrous musings, curled with a lover.
A timeless moment captured
Excellent Ange