Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Upstairs, And The Fine Things Kept There

Don't dream.
Don't sleep.
Not yet.

Did you like dinner?
It was simple,
made from ordinary things.
A little pasta, sauce, and spice.

I brushed garlic on the bread.
I felt your eyes
and the warmth from the oven.

Relax. 
Lace our fingers.
Stay.
_______

for this.

someone once played this song, "Dreams", for me and told me I had a "totally amazing mind." But as another song by another singer has said, I'm just another silly girl.

 

14 comments:

De said...

This is so softly inviting. I LOVE your title. And I can't decide now if I am starving, or just want to snuggle. ;)

Buddah Moskowitz said...

Exquisite!

grapeling said...

sweet ~

indybev said...


A romantic reverie. So beautiful.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Pasta, hugs and "stay." Invitations dont get much better. Nor poems.

Sioux Roslawski said...

The title, the first three lines and the line "Lace our fingers" especially make my mouth gape open.

Frank Hubeny said...

The time between a simple dinner and dreams is for lacing fingers and relaxing.

angieinspired said...

i really like this Stay.

Sarah Russell said...

From one silly girl to another, I just loved this poem. And its incredibly elusive title.

hedgewitch said...

Very simple, and like life, when simple is this sweet, there is nothing to compare. The title is masterly, and the whole thing just everything a poem should be as a capture of our deepest and simplest needs.

lynn__ said...

This poem is perfection!

hyperCRYPTICal said...

I love your words, they made me feel warm and happy and made me smile.
Anna :o]

Jennifer Wagner said...

You hit the mark with this dreamy piece.

koi seo said...

Pasta, hugs and "stay." Invitations dont get much better. Nor poems.


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