his hands close around the stone
the ball of his thumb resting
against the hole
then turning, turning
deosil – never widdershins –
rubbing our a wish
from the fabric of the universe
until he feels her close –
her breath on his cheek,
he fingers tracing the line of his jaw
and he opens his eyes,
hoping to see his long-dead love
but she is gone –
gone into the wind and the rain
and the crashing of the surf.
He seeks another stone,
certain the right one
will bring her back.
8 comments:
This made my house guest very teary-eyed.
His ex-fiancee just passed away and they had stones together.....
Oh! I'm so sorry.
Ah Sweetie. I believe - that even when you words bring memories and pain - that it is a good pain. A sweet sort of release - because your words are kind - not meant harshly at all - and they heal in a way.
My house guest wears a stone around his neck. It has a hole in it that the leather is threaded through.
He and his ex-fiancee had stones that were broken in 3 places and they kept them together - feeling like they meant something.
Please - don't be sorry for your wonderful words.
Thank you aims. I appreciate you reassuring me.
Perfect picture (great stones! are you going to do anything with them?) and wonderful poem.
Thanks Nathalie. They're destined to be embellishments in the arty mirrors, I think. I collected about twenty.
Oh! What a lament. This is beautiful.
Thanks Stephanie :)
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