“ Looking ” ~ for quiescent fit ~

 

Here I sit

Musing still,

In a place

That resembles

A dark pit,

Inside my mind

A state of unlit,

Wants thought denied

If only for a bit…

 

Oh what a rest

This would be,

If I should find

Bide in quiescent fit!

                                              ode to a friend in need of time  

 

 

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“ The Man ” ~ of two glasses ~

He sits to face

An empty space,

Across a table

Where time ago

A chair left bare,

Yet so reflects

A face he loved,

Remains aglow,

Upon a glass

Of pale rosé…

 

Each forlorn day

In vain he stares,

With musing’s play,

One can near feel

Her presence there, 

His mind will trace

Upon the empty chair,

Memory of her face                                                           

That will not part

That special space,

Fixed in his heart…

 

Alas the man

Said of two glasses,

Sits so to face

That empty space

As time so passes,

But for a moment dwells,

On memory only he can tell!

“ All Roads ” ~ lead to roam ~

 

A world I roamed

I hadn’t known,

Shaped memories

Of places dear,

Like ancient Rome

And mysteries

Of Tangier,

That reached beyond

A musing’s home,

Dreamed petit môme…

 

Now should I aim

Trip far from near

Caducity I fear,

Errs view erase

As if time passed

Best blur its face,

Save then again

I should be lured

By nomad tastes,

To roads unknown

That lead to roam!