“Never love a wild thing…If you let yourself love a wild thing. You’ll end up looking at the sky.” ― Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Three Stories
she's artless
allowing the sun to smear
her skin of dew and blue wildflowers
her shoulders are a soft bed to lean
your weary head to
her hands are tender tendrils
but once she holds on to a rock or tree
they are resilient, strong as rope
during autumn her face is a work of art
fading & wrinkled lines, silver threads,
orange-brown speckles, the golden hours
of conversations are short but meaningful
we say our goodbyes with warmth of steeped tea -
cozy, not clinging so tight, but letting
go easily as breeze, carefree as blue sky
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub: Breakfast at Tiffany's, hosted by Linda Lee Lyberg. I chose this quote as an inspiration and epigram for my poem. Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.
This is positively gorgeous Grace! I chose the same line. Great minds- lol.
ReplyDeleteThis is absolutely breathtaking work done, Grace! I especially admire; "her hands are tender tendrils but once she holds on to a rock or tree they are resilient."❤️❤️
ReplyDeleteBeautiful - I wish that I had written that!
ReplyDeleteGentle, vivid, lovely.
ReplyDeleteI loved this, took to it metaphorically as in saying goodbye to the season. Very sweet.
ReplyDeleteLovely, lovely ending, but in fact I was able to associate much of my experience recently to your lines. It brought back some people I have met, still wise, and calm under pressure.
ReplyDeleteOutstanding piece!
ReplyDeleteduring autumn her face is a work of art
ReplyDeletefading & wrinkled lines, silver threads,
orange-brown speckles, the golden hour
of conversations are short but meaningful
Love this stanza, Grace! Beautiful description. Can be liken to life's journey exhausted and spent in the end where relationships are restricted (description - conversations are short) Always like your style Ma'am!
Hank
Grace, this is so beautiful! Especially love the stanza about autumn. Stellar writing.
ReplyDeleteWarmth even in the passing of time and goodbyes too, a gentle, open and loving poem Grace. Fills the heart.
ReplyDeleteA soft, gentle stunner, Grace!
ReplyDelete