Cycle (D12 #NaPoWriMo)


A shadow faint against
Sun’s rouged up residue,
She stood amongst
The sedge, at water’s edge.
Mists chill damp veils ghosted in
And clung like web against
Soft swollen skin of lips,
Still bruised by distant kisses,
And stole the words she meant to say,
Secreted one by one
Until the rage that stored them
Echoed with their absence,

The dark like silk, soft sensual
Cool caress on upturned face.
Silence thundered in her ears.
Fingers tight white clutch
Gripped at droplets
That trickled through
The gaps, like love,
And fell to earth,
Perhaps to blossom
Once again, in time,
Should another’s warming pollen
Fill her once again
With love’s feverish fertile seed.

© Greg Richards

D12 Poem, NaPoWriMo, exploring Alliteration and Assonance, and I guess repetition in love and loss.


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