I gazed longingly at so many prompts last week, knowing I was unable to touch them for a little while...there are a few too sweet not to give them a try.
Your finger-tips, once warm and tender
Rake across a listless turf
Then, an argent swell of splendor
Now a cold and darkened surf
Thought can be a calloused reaper
Stripping pleasure from the vine
Trampling all but truth beneath her
Folly yields a bitter wine
Where soft laughter filled night’s hollow
Now a low and hardened moan
Clenches twilight’s deepening pallor
With the timbre of a stone
Your lips, once sweet as dew-kissed roses
With sad triumph I decline
The door ajar now firmly closes
For you are no longer mine
Janet Martin
Wonderful accomplishment here. Your endings so often pack a major punch. This is no exception.
ReplyDeleteThank-you, Mary
ReplyDelete