While that sound could be
either your voice
or the strings of a course violin
I find I fear the failure
of my hands to move
my lips to open,
letting in carbon dioxide
(but that’s just a myth, wouldn’t you think?
sort of a saying?– stop talking!)
my eyes to blink,
or my mind to waver
from savoring the idea
that somewhere, somehow
you will embrace me like a great vat of velvet night
encircling the atmosphere
urging me fly to you
like a moth embraces light.
what casual thought is this?
you exude a freezing warmness
that I could not touch
but touched me.
like summer in an endless frost
where a bird soars upward gazing at the view
of the lost wandering few
I remember who I am upon the waking,
but discard my reality with the early morning dew.
So, because I fear that which is finite
I choose you, not here,
not there not really anywhere
but soft, plush and light watched,
yet hidden in plain sight,
a truth that no one knows,
like a vat of velvet night .
Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry
Photography by Golden Star Poetry
Golden Star Poetry 