WISTFUL
(Poem by Wendy Howe)
see also the french version

A soft slant of eyes
casts the room in amber
as thoughts hang
over her lashes
and sway into evening.

Memory owns this half-lit darkness
and shadows its tide
with the poetess leaning
on yesterday's breath of air.

Long hair and neck
drift on currents of summer
like willows skimming cool water
and a stream of tears
she has shed over love
and words pressed dark as violets
between corners of a smile.

Now as she turns
toward the window
a parasol of clouds
covers the mind in elegant silence.

Nothing is heard, only felt
as syllables blink
in the quiet timing
of a new dream;
a verse washed in moonlight
and her tenderness rippling
in silhouette
against twilight's mirror.

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