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Pressing fingers to the pane
| Poetic Haven |
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Pressing fingers to the pane |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855
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I rest my hand against the pane and walk the street with tapered stride, never moving to the crosspiece. Leaning up across the piano. The subtle sounds of water washing from another room. The curtains distill light to silence, hanging there and waiting there. When the phone rings, I will start. The pane will be forgotten. Hopskotch people without stones moving in and out of view. I would throw them words of chalk if I cared -- if they cared. But neither of us know the other, and the pane is cold with morning. Presently, the keyboard waits, long dark rows of bright, clean lights hanging upside down, just wanting to be pressed against the wood. When I'm through, the last will ring and bell out beautifully and spare. Sparse as figures dancing naked, uncoiling Sunday in wet drops. |
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Duncan Member Ascendant
since 2001-08-07
Posts 5455 |
"When the phone rings, I will start. The pane will be forgotten. Hopskotch people without stones moving in and out of view. I would throw them words of chalk if I cared -- if they cared. But neither of us know the other, and the pane is cold with morning." It's the transitions. They getcha everytime.  I understand this well Mike."I’m here without you baby but your still on my lonely mind |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
Thanks, Duncan. Glad it made sense to you. |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
"I would throw them words of chalk if I cared -- if they cared. But neither of us know the other, and the pane is cold with morning." ******** I sure do miss the writer that penned these words. This blue pane IS cold without you, Mikey. |
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Marshalzu
since 2001-02-15
Posts 2681Lurking |
Wonderful writing  |
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