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Pagan Paul Jan 2019
Dust hangs in the still air,
caught by a shaft of light,
shiny sprinkles float serene,
in space a string-less kite.

A particle catches the eye,
playing tai-chi within a ray,
the stationary free dance
of a mote at indulgent play.

© Pagan Paul (25/12/18)
mark john junor Jul 2014
as crickets renew their song
she came to me dreamlike
a lone candle held back the night
its thin light strong in her heart
as she brushed her flowing hair
and looked with distant eyes to unseen horizon
to unseen memories taste on the soul
the cost to any but the mad is too much
but she endured
she has seen the promised land
and the greener pastures she longs for
are a distant lands postcard stuck to
the torn up wall above her bed
not a single word pierces that painted smile

in the nights stillness
i retrace my steps
to stand exactly where she stood
as if the magic of her presence might still linger
i stand breathing gently
somehow believing that i can feel her in the air
not wishing even this empty moment to end

even if only half perceived
her delicate features were hauntingly beautiful
her long thick auburn hair wet
with the night's rain
she had come to ask
i came to answer
she silently leaned against me
i silently held her

love has no need of words

— The End —