Whispers a wind, your voice within…
To have kept this remembrance of you. One I have conjured
within the middle of the night when I become
overwhelmed with the deafening sound
of silence.
have missed you, but never could I have imagined as much.
Within an early dawn as the first rays of sunlight touch the sky,
as a shadow, you linger beside me, Is it you I reach out
to touch.
Never have I forgotten your warmth, the sweet nectar I have tasted
on your lips; the taste of strawberry, and the allure of honey…
Your lips
a brilliant scarlet red,
your eyes, the colouring of emerald green and azure…
a portrait, would be a portrait of the tears I have wept for you.
“Inasmuch as I cannot weep, I find great suffering within my sorrow.
Whether this is discernable, matters not, if one were to ponder.
It is not a query one should
question.
What emotions may lay therein the tempest within my soul,
shall fade in time as would a
whisper…”
she spake within a lurid sleep, a wisp of a woman frail and weak.
Whose beauty ’twas twice revealed as she bathed silently
amongst the shadows and pale
moonlight.
who hypnotised me with her eyes; a haunting memory she has
become, arriving when the moon is full and bright, softly whispering words, long ago, I did keep.
In quiet slumber she sleeps within a twice dreamed dream, softly sighing, as a tear she weeps, the sweet adoration
of my love…
she to have wept a tear has left me wondering what does she fear.
What, within her dreams has entered; a haunting she felt
unfamiliar whose cold breath caught her
quite surprised
as she pondered upon the reasoning why such an unwelcome
visitor has she received. This fearful look within her eyes,
ever still, she did lie, too frightened to speak,
has she sought a reprieve…
What sin has she committed as she lay pleading.
Her shallow breath.
Her shallow
breath.
And now her whispering’s lay barely heard. Who has beckoned
such a beast, this apparition which has entered within
her sleep.
is she to appeal? Her very soul lies in peril. She weeps, silently
suffering. Heaven’s angels pray for she, the sweet
adoration of my love.
About James Sterling
James began writing at the age of 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, and that is the beauty of his writing!!
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