Thursday, May 22, 2014

Poised on the Brink of a Poem




 

Poised on the brink of a poem, my love
Somehow your touch on my thought
Stirs me to reach past the ache of farewell
Back to a place memory-wrought

What is the color of loneliness, love
Is it the shade of a breeze
Rising and falling, a phantom baton
Strumming the night-ridden seas

Is it the whisper of what-once-had-been
Rousing both wonder and want
Tipping a scale bent with laughter and grief
Painting thought’s walls with its taunt

How is it that ink curlicues can compose
Harmonies sweet and surreal
Cupping the echo of living’s adieus
Where only thought-touch can feel

Masterpiece moments re-shaped into word
Never do justice and yet
Somehow a memory secured in a poem
Helps me to never forget

Someday I'll take the piece still in my clasp
Though now the music of home
Seems quite ordinary, I know I exist
Poised on the brink of a poem

© Janet Martin


1 comment:

Thank you always for your visit and your thoughts.