Corner of time

Whitewashed fence gray from 
minutes and hours,
rain clouds pulling themselves along a 
cargoed sea
with a throbbing, thunderous movement,
rusted metal pole lamp trying to
absorb light
from holes in a blackened sky,
i, a solitary onlooker, must go where i
was intended to be,
at a dimly lit pier’s edge, splinters in
my fingers,
peeling paint grasping my palms,
dark sky i’d hope 
would open.

i look across vast waters and time to a
distant land,
she awaits,
dancing in light and shadows,
writing me letters on an
old table, in an old whitewashed
dust in corners, dust in planked floors,
covering wrought nails, rusted from
rain leaking through 
tin ceilings,
she catches familiar drops dripping into
old Ball glass jars,
smells flowers through a cottage window,
sips wildflower tea.

She sends me snapshots, ones she
favors most,
of her in flowing dresses
and scarves,
i carefully place them in an album,
running my fingers across each
box Brownie photo
while sitting on an old weathered
on an aging pier,
warm smell of perfume on each
running through me, deeper than any
wave in fathoms of this sea.

i wait patiently for the next mail ship,
but it doesn’t arrive,
lost in a storm with all its crew,
i hang over whitewash and wood,
scanning a conscious horizon…
something in a curled wave,
a letter
washes up on the sliver beach,
anxiously i open and read,
“i want you here,” “fell in love from
when i first saw you.”
a wooden bow awakens the 
sleeping sea,
i feel mists of blue waves, her gentle
breath in canvas sail,
i do not drown the anchor.


Copyright © 04/18/2014 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®


6 comments on “Corner of time

  1. Once again you have taken me right there…beautiful work!

  2. Fantastic images and in a voice drawing a reader’s interest into a sincere story of desire and longing! Great!!!

  3. Beautiful – it’s as if I were floating above watching it all at play – longing really is it’s own passion.

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