My coat's a blanket.My love, sleeping on a bus;
blue wool breathes with him.
Lying on the seat
soft hair brushes the collar
tucked under his chin.
I want to paint him;
freeze him, lips blue under ice;
encase him in glass.
He may wake sighing.
Worries -- gone in sleep -- descend
all in an instant.
But I've forgotten
all that came before this and
all that came after.
This moment only
is encased in memory
as if in amber.
Nicely done - it would be nice, wouldn't it to save for re-savouring those special moments.
ReplyDelete"But I’ve forgotten
ReplyDeleteall that came before this and
all that came after."
that's my favorite part ...
"wow," whispered Sophie, "that is what authentic poetry looks like."
ReplyDeleteThank you.