Silhouette

A letter is a bridge of thought
his words are written in the sky.
Step light across the space lest you
disturb and lose the message
in those clouds
for,
there is a truth of touch
felt in the deepest depths
of longing.

An empty chair
in an empty room

She waits for…

A silhouette against the wall
now, so unsure.

The telephone hangs
suspended there in time
and still

She waits for…

It was one man’s dream.
His wish
she would love again.

His voice doesn’t need a
telephone line to tell her this
he has a direct line wrapped
around and, inside her heart
along with all the love he
gave her so very long ago.

The door is open
trees, lush, green, alive.
He wants her to also live
to leave the empty chair and room
to fill herself again with love
to laugh
yet still

She waits for…

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

 

Aware of how a friend is feeling over grieving for her husband who passed away in June 2009. She asked me what thoughts I might have and, what I might write for the picture (above) that she emailed me.

For M.

Shared with dVersePoets OpenLinkNight #40

hit counter for tumblr

Who

Who will catch me
when I fall
if not you

Not you.

Who will hold this fragile
heart, mend it
when it breaks again
if not you

Not you.

Who will take my hand
without the need
of wearing shame
if not you

Not you.

Who will listen as my mind
speaks a lover’s name
if not you

Not you.

Who will look into my eyes
and see loves refection there
if not you

Not you.

Who will touch my soul
with theirs, mould it
into one
if not you

Not you.

Who will fly with me on
wings that soar into
the light of
eternal
suns

If not you

then…

Who.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo     *All rights reserved

Shared with Poetry Jam Anaphora poem (Repetition)

Mind Games

In all honesty
I expected something
but life has shown
(once again)
I ought not to
have at all.

I am the shadow of love
where once, I was its
sparkle in her eyes

But

Nothing is lost
because

she was not who
I thought she was

Just the figment of a yearning
that simply played games
in my mind.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo      *All rights reserved

The promt is the photograph and the thoughts we take from it. At first I thought she was wearing a fake beard *rolls eyes* until I enlarged the picture to discover it’s a bow around her neck. Apparently her husband (the photographer) liked to play with shadows and light.

Shared with Magpie Tales #96
Poetry Pantry #80