On Putting the Clocks On
By Silver Spun Sand
Fri, 27 Mar 2015
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8 comments
With a ‘morning’s come too soon’
kind of a yawn, she drifts off to sleep again
beside me – her spine curled against the dawn
only moments ago, arched in exquisite agony...
until the letting go, when nobody breaks
quite as beautifully as she.
She lies beside me; her eyelids stutter –
brush my cheek, and want to walk with her
the labyrinths of dreams – her arms akimbo
like branches of a cherry tree, laden
with blossom – falls like snow.
She stirs beside me; her head nuzzles my chest;
hair – a waterfall cascading to the river – kiss
every wavelet, each ripple, as, Junoesque,
the unfolding begins, to the sultry,
slow jazz of a Sunday morning
as a thaw sets in.
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Comments
Mother of Mars, Junoesque is
Mother of Mars, Junoesque is often best, but you've put quite a quiver on the running down of clocks and the never never. Wonderful.
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eloquent :)
Permalink Submitted by prettyrose on
Love this Tina, as always I knew it would be brilliant and written wounderfully, well deserved cherries. .
Take care
Trish xx
Keep Smiling
Keep Writing xxx
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Awww
Permalink Submitted by prettyrose on
Hi Tina, I shall have a good staurday now thank you :) as your lovely comment as made the rain where I am, very sunny!!!
Take care
Trish xx
Keep Smiling
Keep Writing xxx
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Gorgeous, reminds me of that
Permalink Submitted by Philip Sidney on
Gorgeous, reminds me of that long ago time of waking with babes in the bed, thank you for stirring up that special memory.
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