Writing Under the Influence

By on Jun 15, 2016 in Poetry | 0 comments

Writing Under the Influence


It was at the end of a working day

You and I and small talk

In our bedroom of vaulted

Ceilings and irregular glass


That I noticed your figure

Bare against the back door windows

Framed by a view of wrought iron,

New cut grass, and barren plum tree

The upper portion wreathed in rosemary


For me at that moment

Thirty years of love sat on my lips

And scarcely let me breathe for

The aha of why I loved you and love

You still


I know littleā€¦less as each year passes

I do know this one thing

My old heart, camera that it is,

Has taken a snapshot of

Why I live.


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