Evening can come so quickly
a dress shedding, slipping to floor
liquid dancer, polish against ordinary
the grace and urgency of fabric
ardor, quickening to burgundy
this place we find, mingled in each other
the way you breathe, become familiar
shutting out horrors that would otherwise lurk
on fringe of everyday, torments gathering armies
you shake me out, like a favorite wet coat
left to warm itself on old iron heater
where in that simple pleasure, pressing against chipped paint
the old coat, luxuriates in welcomed inferno
making up for the snag of life, when everything falls away
as when you were a child, you see color again
the hue of you, depends
on how much I redden your cheeks
already aglow in fading dusk
already rosy with rising blush
as I whisper in indolent hush
what I’ll do when light ellipses completely dark
the old coat, faded, worn thin, made anew
with a little borrowed warmth and string of lonesome hours
repair entwined in fallen weave
complete in ways no stitch describes
how lovely your neck, how soft your thighs
this world of sorrow, so quick to devour shine
when just enough and not too much, we find
saves the lost, saves the lost, saves the lost
Stunning.
Something more than shelter from the storm, more complete, more beautiful
❤️
So perfect, the hues, the warmth, that coat on the radiator. I can’t get the chill out of my bones lately but this warmed me right up. 💜
Wonderful use of fabric metaphors
I have, and your profiles are both insightful and beautifully written. They are an amazing bunch.
thank you dearling thank you
thank you lovely velvet man
😁You’re welcome
Hope you’ve been following the IB Author Profile Series I have been doing on IB WP Bob, I think you’ll find it really interesting and it’s been a lot of work but really interesting to do – I so admire how much people seem to achieve and the creativity of these folk we’re lucky enough to work with (that includes you).
Dear Carol thank you lovely one
So glad. It’s been great to highlight their amazing accomplishments.
Beautiful writing
I’m no poet but I love the way that you slip the words ordinary and burgundy into that initial flow. They are like rafts on a silvery cascade of cadence.
Robert – I appreciate you so very much dear one