(Poem by Wendy Howe )

I am revived
renting the rooms this old
silk factory --

where morning doves land
and loiter on the window sill,

where sunlight warms the sandstone
and wanders the loft
like an amber shadow, a handmaiden

who hems the breezy spirit of plants
and tropical prints.

I listen to the silence
of willow-green candles.

It's afternoon. Their breath has no flame
only the coolness of columns,
that memory of summer shade

and the artist who traces me
with scant detail and the soft
tongue of charcoal, a lover

so young, still shedding
his curiosity.

© 2011, Wendy Howe. E-mail.
To know more about Wendy Howe

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Une petite rue fleurie de Lectoure

(Drawing by )


© 2011,

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