Were Weaving

Once we were weaving the wind in simmering nets of back-splash raindrops
Trimming our airs, the summery trees reaching out for the sky-blue door
Tore through time, through space the aching ardor of your limbs
The eerie eyrie of your eyes their supernatural grace
Reprising all creation in a moment when we touched with breaths held
Close the dream the burning gleam of holy fire, such a life, such desire;
Now we are going, going and leaving our limbs to the earth and the grass
Passing bye on streets like ghosts in sheets and chains of Heaven crying
Praying for wings, forgiveness and all such things when or where everything stops . . .
Still,
Once we were weaving the wind in simmering nets of back-splash raindrops . . .




Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2015-08-02 at 10:59

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Very sad really. But very nice.
2015-08-07