I watched your fingers in the candle light;
Your rings shone differently at every angle like phases of the moon,
And even your open leather jacket glowed like foxfire
As we sat with only window glass and our shifting reflections
Between us and the rain outside in the street.
It all follows me like fog, you know.
It rises like mist right through me,
And I am the one left wavering, insubstantial,
Remembering the moon
Remembering your fingers
Remembering our single tender kiss--
All I'll ever have
Of you.
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It's nice but sad in the end all we have is memories.
ReplyDeleteAu contraire, pierre....there is still Josephine's! ;-)
ReplyDeleteOh, I do adore your way with the
ReplyDeletebittersweet, shayfire, gently
longing.
Thank you, Cynthia, that does seem to be a specialty of mine. And, I always love it when you stop in!
ReplyDeleteOhhh, how deliciously tangy-sweet this is!
ReplyDeleteJust like the fare at Josephine's, Lil Bit! C'mon, my treat for lunch!
ReplyDelete