Guest House

As we stood there talking

facing each other through the screen door


Her sleepy eyes tight in the morning sun

A breeze from the lake tugging at her hair

A large gray sweatshirt down to her bare legs


She never looked more beautiful


And I found myself wondering

why we never

14 comments:

  1. Bard:

    The morning sun always does that -- making everything surreal. I wonder about the same scene at mid-day.

    I liked the way the poem seems like it is not yet complete but at the same time it conveys whatever was meant to be.

    Joy always,
    Susan

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  2. And now you've got me wondering - that's good writing.

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  3. Superbly succinct! I dig the italicization of the second stanza - really helps in conveying that reality-defying moment.

    BTW - Just noticed the series of guitar pics in your sidebar. Apropos to your Tagore quote.

    PS - Thanks for commenting on "AnswerS"!

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  4. Thank you for your kind comment on the pictures!

    Beautifull blog you have.

    Beautifull writing.
    Sounds like an unfinished symphony.

    Magical and breakable.

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  5. I love the sweatshirt look so very much!

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  6. the language in this poem is as soft and inviting as a prayer...

    nicely done...

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  7. I wish you 'togetherness' -there's still time!
    Very well constructed...

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  8. Thankyou, lines like these make me happy to be back! Though I have a lot of catching up to do!

    Regards,
    Val

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  9. Pretty into kind of lines....


    Jolliieesss:)

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  10. i could picture me and him with ease :D

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