“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.
