She was my muse ….. once
She died you know
As I sit here watching the flames
Lick
The side walls of the chimney
The way flames have a way of leaping about
Seemingly with purpose
Yet chaotic at the same time
I miss her
A lot
As the drift of scented gum
Wafts
On the cool of the crisp night air
Then dissipates
As though it or my words never existed
But I know they did
Like the flames
Continuing their endless dance
We touched our hearts forever
Or so we thought
Darkness enshrouds me now
Reaching in from behind
As the warmth from the fire
Lights me in hues of red
Casting grotesque shadows on the walls
Impressions of demons
Well at least what I think they look like
Warming that which cannot be warmed anymore
I really believed
In forever
Morose
I tilt my head forward
And drift
Into memories
Into a lifetime
Questioning a life
Why Im now alone
Feeling a soft touch on my shoulder
An impression left on the rug
Wrapped around a soul
I know
No one is there
I know
There never will be again
I know
Yet I can still believe
In love
I hold you
In love
I remember you
In love
It is forever
And the flames still dance
4 comments:
I like that this can be your muse, as is the case when we get writer's block, or a relationship. Good to see you, Adrian.
Adrian, such a sad melancholic poem of remembering. I love the touch on the shoulder. When we love forever, even when the loved one is gone, the love is still there. I love the stark beauty in this poem.
And the flames still dance.
You could not have ended this any other way. Beautiful despite, or perhaps because of, the sadness and loss.
Adrian, the loss, so painful, and it's almost as though the flames play two roles: Dancing to remind you that things change form, and taunting you because fire always has the companion of the log.
This really touched me, Adrian. So glad you posted at Real Toads. Peace, Amy
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