Me Down

By Richard L. Provencher
Thu, 01 Mar 2012
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2 comments
and I want the sun
to lay my feathers dry
to rest among clusters of
birch in silence
know me
uncluttered
no words of sorrow
hidden from turmoil’s scruff
your fingers on my neck
scented
a tormenting distance
from your soul.
Your magnificence
I breathe.
Your hair tickles
my face
memory of you
touching.
© Richard L. Provencher
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Comments
Richard, 'your fingers on my
Permalink Submitted by ItsSteveDave on
Richard,
'your fingers on my neck
scented
a tormenting distance
from your soul.'
This is a stark image, and for me, it hit the mark absolutely. So few words, so much said - brilliant!
Steve.
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