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(Poem by Wendy Howe ) I Before the sun, morning owns a crescent moon, a lamp burning the incense of dreams I lit when sleep fell soft and cool last night, when the breeze carried petals and stars echoed your love song in their rhythmic glitter The sky borrowed my spine, spun it into a silken wick and let it float on the brim of Diana's light. The goddess knows how much I love you, how thoughts of us enflame the cord, soften the darkness shadowing my window and the horizon. II After the meadow lark sings, morning bathes the linen sheets in a paling blue. I know the power of this color, beryl, sea-rinsed crystal. It reawakens the passion between man and wife, intensifies the closeness of lovers who yearn, sparkle at a distance. Alone, I wake but the room is not lacking your presence. My skin absorbs the shade and scent of loyalty. You are so near breathing through the fragrant trees, shining as dawn splashes her glimmer over my bed. Here, my body trembles adrift, waiting for you to gather all its whiteness, these armfuls of blossoms that Fate brings to the garden, the ripening act of creation.. To know more about Wendy Howe All Images & Poems (En) |
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