born of the stars,
fire breath,
with eternity in your smile.
Ghosts of desire
haunt the morning,
listen to their voices,
soft as velvet.
Night lingers, remembering
how we were.
born of the stars,
fire breath,
with eternity in your smile.
Ghosts of desire
haunt the morning,
listen to their voices,
soft as velvet.
Night lingers, remembering
how we were.
A blog by Billy Mills
or a White Other or an Eastern European
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Another beautiful one.
She relented 🙂 Did she send you one?
No, it’s just not happening here. Maybe I’ll try again later. 😉
She maybe prefers the weather this side of the pond 🙂
That could be. It looks pretty here now, but it’s cold and windy.
Reblogged this on Die Erste Eslarner Zeitung – Aus und über Eslarn, sowie die bayerisch-tschechische Region!.
Thank you!
😉
This is wonderful. I read it in one way and was sad, then went back and read it completely differently and smiled. A perspective shift in my mind making the words take on a very different meaning depending on the distance between the subjects.
That’s what I felt too. We tend to think that harking back to the past must be because the present is grim, but it ain’t necessarily so. Glad you liked it. It’s a gift of the fridge magnets, shuffling round the words you’re given 🙂
I could use some fridge magnets right now, I am shuffling around a poem and rerererewriting it. To the point is has become a collection of fragments. It needs a rest and I need a coffee!
It will all look different then. And if it doesn’t just scrap it, write something completely different and look at it again tomorrow. Or cannibalise it. That’s very satisfying 🙂
I think something completely different is in order. Break the cycle!
I hope it’s sunny where you are (back from Scotland?) because this grey drizzle is driving me to despair.