(In Response To Your Card)
You clutch a clump of pussy willows
With both hands and slowly bend
And pull downward, forming
The first time I understand
The significance of what it means
To say, “I love you.”
Your hands, and together be grafted
At the rib, for you need no longer doubt
Whether or not I perceive the subtlety
Of our instinct to surrender as two reeds
Planted as one among the replenishing water.
By S L Cunningham
7 comments:
I love good poetry, especially when you weren't expecting. There's a reason why you're the writer and I'm not.
Thanks, Mojo. Appreciate your readership and complement.
Beautiful imagery. Are you in love?
Was. Last week while digging through my boxes looking for a particular book, I found this card that had been given to me some years back. I was intrigued by its image, but didn't have the words to express my feelings in regard to it until now. I've always been a little slow like that.
oh, lovely!
And I thought all the great Romantics only existed in the archives. This is a stunning bit of poetry. The last verse is so lyrically hypnotic.
Sky,
Thanks for coming by and commenting.
I've come by your way a few times and really enjoy your photography. Those pictures of the tulip fields are incredible.
Roberta,
Emily Dickinson said she knew when what she was reading was a poem because it felt like the top of her head was going to explode. Appreciate the comment.
Scot
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