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
parting
to kiss me
the colour of her laughter
the pitch of her smile
as evening came
and we parted
in the unforgiving
unremembered
twilight
of my heart
Author notes
prompts …
The Sound of Twilight
Missing Memories
English