Wednesday, April 20, 2011

my breath

my breath
this is not about love
nor how a soul
finds solace
in incidental burrows
it stumbles upon
why "fits like a glove"
cliche or not
has much prevalence
in realms
of idolatrous metaphor
nor why
although so brief
is such firm companion
of longing
& angst
oh no
this is simply
about why
on the spur of a moment
a smile grows & glows
when intentional gazes interlock
it's all about
my cloud.


Wine and Words said...

Oh my. My cloud. To each other we are wisps, though solid seeming at times. There are no hard edges, but soft folds which might lay themselves out, and might just as easily sew themselves closed.

Shadow said...

over some things, we do not have control...

orfeenix said...

Je ne pensais pas pouvoir m' intéresser à autre chose que l' âme ou l' amour, voilà qui est fait!