Bjorn is hosting Open Link Night in the dVerse Poets Pub ~~ Anything Goes ~~ our choice!
She
walks beneath a clouded sky
umbrella tipped, shadows high
in
the rain, his face appears
her vision blurred by silver tears
She
wonders who he might have been
behind the glasses, past the grin
a
stranger wrapped in time’s soft glow
whispers only raindrops
know
In
the mist, she dreams his tale
the thousand lives he might unveil
a
fleeting glimpse, a phantom bright
caught between the day, the
night
Does
she see his laughter’s spark
or trace his steps in growing
dark
his gaze, a question in the storm
all the ways a soul is
born
Dearest Helen,
ReplyDeleteFeeling grateful for never having encountered such feelings...
Hugs,
Mariette
This is incredibly moving, Helen. I especially love these lines; "Does she see his laughter’s spark or trace his steps in growing dark his gaze, a question in the storm all the ways a soul is born." ❤️❤️
ReplyDelete"a question in the storm
ReplyDeleteall the ways a soul is born"
This question caught me fast, Helen...
A gorgeously wistful, poignant poem, Helen, and so atmospheric. I love how you set the scene, with the ‘umbrella tipped, shadows high in the rain’; the ‘grin a stranger wrapped in time’s soft glow’; and ‘his gaze, a question in the storm’.
ReplyDeleteLove this phantom, caught between day and night. Thanks for reading my story about "friedcakes"!
ReplyDeleteThis is so melancholic with the metaphor of rain as becoming an emotion (like tears maybe)
ReplyDeleteWhistfully and whimsically whispered.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful with a yearning, melancholy feel, Helen. I have made up countless stories about strangers I've seen, but I wonder if she saw a man or a vision, a ghost in the rain.
ReplyDeleteThis is wistfully beautiful and melacholically moving, Helen! So beautiful.
ReplyDeletepalpable; rung through with saudade
ReplyDelete