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Joel the wolf
Senior Member

since 2000-04-06

Posts 1333
Angels Camp

0 posted 2000-05-26 02:43 AM

Fighting back a tear feeling your last touch
a gentle brush of your fingertips through my hair
not knowing if I’ll ever see you again,
loving your last impression, God I love you so much.

Your smell lingers within this room
as I walk back and forth to catch
it’s fading fragrances of your essence
a towel you used to my heart I fetch.

The radio continues to play oldies,
as I stand grasping your wake.
a brief moment in time with you,
another with her dear god don’t forsake.

This is all that I’m asking from above
a lasting loving touch
a forever fragrance
the love of my White Dove.
forever.

Joel.

I howl a mournful song, that echos within my chambered heart, for all to read? nay for all to feel.

Isis
Member Ascendant

since 1999-09-06

Posts 6296
Sunny Queensland

1 posted 2000-05-26 07:14 PM

Joel ***hugs*** of understanding for my Dad.
I know you miss her so, too many reminders and memories... tis hard. Joel hon, remember I am here to vent with or whine with anytime. Strength to fight the fight my friend.
Love you
Isis

I'll tell you this...... No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn.....
~Isis~
(Goddess - Sovereign of the Spirit)

SpitFire
Member Elite

since 2000-04-19

Posts 2396

2 posted 2000-05-26 09:56 PM

~Oh Joel,...this is such a wonderful expression. The thought of a lasting touch or never fading scent to hold onto is so special in it's longing. Oh, *sigh* goodness, you know...this poem you've written speaks such a truth of what it's like to want just a spec more than we're given. Please hang in there. Love your work lots. *Peace,...~Spit.

Marge Tindal

Member Empyrean

since 1999-11-06

Posts 42384
Florida's Foreverly Shores

3 posted 2000-05-27 05:02 AM

Joel~
The fragrances of life bring memories
wafting to us ... catch your fragrance
and hold it close so that it doesn't
dissipate from your mind or your heart.

Your words are longing's of the heart.
*Hugs*
~*Marge*~

~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~
noles1@totcon.com

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