Tuesday 14 February 2017

Love cries


Screaming sky releases steaming tears
as old memories return to caress,
I am lost under the  heavy weight of absence
nostalgic for a beautiful scent,
a power that moves me greatly
I continue to crave  her presence,
a kindness that I can no longer touch
but keeps calling me through dreams,
offering protection and so much hope
somewhere else now, I guess,
but returns though to touch me deeply
to hold me and  comfort my tired old soul

2 comments:

  1. Such beautiful words... Thinking of you and beautiful Jane too. Steph B.

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  2. cheers though someone on poetry forum earlier said ' Please forgive me for saying this, but as it is right now, this draft reads like a poorly written Hallmark card.
    old soul is cliché. Can a power move you greatly, or does it move you to feel or do something the reader can see?
    Show. Show. Show. Stop the telling.' hey di ho.

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