(Poem by Wendy Howe )


This afternoon
Rain passed through the street

cold and slender in her pewter silk,
soft and quiet as she hummed

a song of Liszt to the waning leaves
and weathered tiles on each roof.


This afternoon
Rain floated through a house

touching its mute piano and hearth,
knowing her dampness would stir

an ache for past days
and the marrow-red fire of love.


This afternoon
Rain glistened through me

as she traced her silhouette
against my ribs leaving

her fragrance to become
breath, my clean drift

into lost hours shared
with you and Salzburg gliding

off the branches, your smooth fingers
playing Liebestraume.

© 2011, Wendy Howe. E-mail.
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Aube entre deux encres

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mfr497a, Aube entre deux encres

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