You, your scent, I must admit I do find it vaguely familiar, have we
met previously? Awe, the look in your eyes,
revealing a look of recognition,
perhaps
the moment has been brought to mind, are we to enquire of it
or am I to remind you of the hours we spent alone
within the dark on that fateful night
as we lay side by
side
counting stars that fell endlessly out of the midnight sky.
At least it is what I remember; the moments which were slipping
past and I find it quite surprising to have remembered them…
Silence. I feel you are searching for words. Is there a thought you
wish to convey. So easily it has escaped you, as it once did I.
You are breathing quite heavily, has the moment
come back to you?
A faint whisper of a smile. A soft sigh, the look in your eyes,
Never have I forgotten the look in your eyes.
Should I have?
Sometimes, in the dark, when all seems unclear, obscured by the
remains of the night at dawn’s twilight there lies
nothing,
but silence within your wandering eyes as you scan the horizon
longing to fill the empty spaces with a majestic blue
and wisps of magenta, as spirals of sunlight
arrive filtering
It is, in that near dark, lying before the dawn, you reveal yourself
in a different light and I am left
awestruck.
In betwixt a dream and fitful sleep, therein lies a restlessness as
one attempt to close their eyes within a long
and dreary night.
If only I were not an insomniac, one who wanders aimlessly in
betwixt a tear and a memory; alas, there are remembrances
to which I cling to which
haunt
within my interludes of reawakening and enhancing my interrupted
sleep. My vain attempt at interpreting what lay foreseen or
unforeseen whilst I lie awake and visualize
a myriad
of images that previously occurred as I rummage through the
present and the past. She entered quietly,
sat down at her l
leisure in a dream, whiling away the hours with the present company
who she cherished and adored, welcoming them
with open arms
hoping to satisfy her
curiosity,
praying they would reciprocate which ultimately led to her dismay.
How quickly the moments
passed
her by leaving her somewhat disillusioned, hoping she would be
swayed by some grand and illustrious illustration, only to be
gifted by one’s grandiose
illusion
literally to deceive and arrive quite unexpectedly, hoping instead
she would hear an encouraging word, which had hurriedly
slipped past without prior
notification,
which she thought of quite disparagingly.
Ah, bittersweet, the memory, of when a whirlwind arose and swept
all away, the sorrow and the tears leaving little left
of the smile she once
bore.
Now her heart lay bare with sadness and nothing more…
have awakened within a twice dreamed dream dreamt long ago,
is one to ponder on the re-entrance after having left the
premise previously, a visitation found repulsive
and reprehensible, if one were
to enquire.
About James Sterling
James began writing at 13, and he has published about 12500 pages of poetry on Facebook! He retired from work at the age of 62.
James is proud to share that he never edits what he has written, which is the beauty of his writing!!
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