The Colours of My Morning
you run from me like the colours of morning
while the sleepy shadows stir about my room
as I reach for the space where you never slept
hearing the ghost of your voice spinning tales of adventures
creating an image in my mind of some fascination glowing
as subliminal subcontexts of complex premonitory intuitions
tell me a story about a world where you and I are let to find
those secret ways into about without within each other eyes, arms
tradewinds curling from our lips, exchanging breaths of longing before
you run from me like the colours of morning
chasing away the sleeping shadows whirring about the corners of my room
in my inner ear hearing the husky sensual rasp of your smoker's voice
telling me a piquant vignette of coffee with liquers once upon a cold northern border town
I wish I could see a movie of your life with you playing your own lead actress role
so much brilliant energy and creative expression ranging from subtle minutiae to bold brush strokes
it suggests to me entire fields of Art, paradigms of history and cultures
strangely and sublimely beautiful how you run from me
like the colours
of my mornings...
Poetry by jesse
Read 378 times
Written on 2007-01-22 at 13:01
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
