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They
never tangle their feet together
Their
words start as if to stop
Always
in low monotones, subdued and silent
They
always touch briefly
In
comfort, conversing with the breeze
As
they sit among the quiet Sunday clouds
Their
brief touches always set fire to the rapid wind
Engaging
the sky and its keepers
Therein
lies pleasure and pain, history
First
dates, kisses, fights, separations
elevations,
secrets, nights and affairs
Pleasure and pain
1 comment:
A fine poem by a writer who I hope begins to contribute to publications here in the United States. Perhaps I've missed work by this writer in the past. I hope not.
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