Poetry by Jeff Green


Soft beneath the dying day

by cricketjeff on July 8, 2009.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

I can’t quite remember
the sound of her feet
soft in stockings
on cool damp grass
as the sun died with the day

Half heard, her sigh
touched the wind
and brought it to its knees
before the moon
gained the skies

Did her fingers
brush though my hair
and did mine respond?

I cannot remember
the sound of her lips
to kiss me

the colour of her laughter

the pitch of her smile

as evening came
and we parted
in the unforgiving
of my heart

Author notes

prompts …

*The Sound of Twilight
*Missing Memories