Close, oh so close...

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26/5/16 Collection of short poems

Treasure

 

I wear this tiny

golden piece of you

around my neck,

just above my heart,

it flickers and pulses

as if it has a life of its own

and I caress it

with love

and think of you.

 

--------

CPR — whisper, speak, shout

 

This is an affair of the heart.

A heart which was still.

Silent and absent.

My touch, my caress,

my will calling it back.

And it was not there.

It had gone

...somewhere..

But I kept calling it,

whispering, speaking,

shouting

to that absent heart

And, finally, weirdly,

vitally

it came.

Under my touch.

 

--------

Ode to Jeanette Winterson

 

We both hear her voice

speaking our words.

We both read her words,

written in our voice.

A third to add to the Kindred?

A soul split in...

three?

 

 

 

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