Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I'm still here
darlin' girl
buried deep inside
your rib cage.

When you close
the pine lid
it doesn't end there,
it begins anew.

The flowers from
your mother's garden
are nice, the photos too...
but it's not

what I wanted,
a few more moments
for my hand to linger
on your leg

and stare into
bottomless jade eyes
as deep and clear
as the quarry water

at the end of Coyote Road
where we swung
on a tired old rope
to the center of the pond

and with esoteric precision
released our grips
and plunged like
volcanic rock

entangled as one
into the frigid water
where we popped
to the top

laughing and aroused,
our lips locked
in the passion
stoked by the fires

of a new summer love.
But alas, I cannot
touch you with physical
parts today, only my

transplanted soul.

this is so sad

if it's based on anything true, sincere sympathies

if it isn't, you had me believing it was

and when a poet makes me believe, i rise to applaud

thank you for sharing, steve

This is indeed, simply, stunningly beautiful....
H

thank you doreen...no this is fiction, but I'm pleased that it moved you
in some way...and thanx hester once again for your kind remarks....