#tremulous
The night is long
no touch of wrong
soul and body at little ease
and the world notices stain
Upon my soul
calm content and ocean floods,
sweet in the tremulous tides
And they would not welcome
Blossoms all the land
where the play is fair
lingered and lingers
upon thy lips
Thought you may not know
I may not feel
spirits crave, waiting to be given
all that is pure and true
Upon we, as we pass into the night!
Jun 5, 2020
Jun 5, 2020 at 3:22 PM UTC
*tremulous and tender, the crook'd finger
neither timid or tentative,*
yet trembles,
*though it be from
care, not fear, consideration, not trepidation
the renegade finger strokes her sleeping cheek,
tender the tip to each cell beloved, as if sealing a bond
there is no more to say
when awakening comes, one will be gone,
with no note, thus this last soft stoking, outline stroking
tremulous and tender, his finger, U shaped-crook'd,
but he is no longer is her
you*
he leaves, departing, yet lightly shaking,
no longer can he be her prized and proud claiming show-horse,
gone, that man she loved, for he cannot abide his being
called a former, dark glory, a bent cane spirit,
his body, its entirety,
crooked by weight of an improvident provision,
not just his finger, this, his,
a greater intolerable,
his pain of failure unacceptable
and shame searing,
his woe bends his love acrooked
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 4:41 PM UTC