He remembers her hands
Reading his back like braille.
He can still feel kisses
Across his shoulders
Down his spine
Gently mapping his back
With her lips as if she knew.
In the dark hours
When his mind wanders
And sleep eludes him
He can still see her eyes
When he would not answer.
Image: wikipedia commons
AnElephant wonders what story she read.
And whether she asked the right question.
Tu écris les mots, les pensées, qu’il cherche mais qu’il ne trouve jamais.
AnElephantCan keep on wonderin’
’cause Emmy’s not sayin’
a question is just a question
Silence needs edulcoration
Tes mots, meme dans ce que tu ne dis pas, ont une puissance que tu ne vois pas… Un jour je t’expliquerai. Peut etre. Peut etre pas.
So easy to picture.
Thank you my friend.
Thanks Al, glad you enjoyed it.
I did 🙂
I wish I had written this
Thank you. I am sure you could have. Smile.
Smiles. I do not have your delicate, clever touch.
Mmm. Thank you D. You are kind.
Hmm, …his loss ! Nicely written, Emm. Liked it a lot.
Thank you Paul. Glad you liked it.
Beautifully tender and tactile. Greatly enjoyed, thank you.
Thank you Mike. So often it is the unspoken that touches the most. I hoped to convey that.
Every post is beautifully rendered. This one caused silly Willy Nilly to pause his tale chasing and dream a bit, maybe mourn a little. Even cheeky dragons yearn for a delicate touch. 🙂
Thank you Willy Nilly. Looks like you and I engage in the same pursuits: chasing tales, dreaming and leaving traces behind in tiny scratches in black on white.
Hmmm. I feel mischief coming on. 🙂