I used to worry that you might
die and I’d never know,
that one day your face would be
clean-shaven and you’d
wear your shiny black shoes
again
a blue heron flew overhead
as the taste of our lips
together faded
from our collective memory
as surely as the moon fades
with the sunrise.
we threw the
scarlet letters away, they
rest on the bottom of the
bayou, relics of times
passed.
_______________________
oo nice….the throwing away of the scarlet letters…resting now on the bottom of the bayou…and the relics…that last stanza is chock full of goodness…the first bit carries a bit of hope in it too for something different….
LikeLike
Thanks for your feedback, Brian. Still working on this one….
LikeLike
just fixed your link at dverse, it wasnt working…
LikeLike
Thanks!
LikeLike
A work in progress you say, Charlotte? I love the last stanza as well. A great image with the letters and the bayou.
Pamela
LikeLike
Thanks, Pamela. Yes, this one is not quite sitting right with me so there’s more to be done with it.
LikeLike
The last stanza does really bring it home, love the throwing of the letters away.
LikeLike
It sits wonderfully with me. I think it’s a fantastic write.
LikeLike
Love the throwing of the letters, lovely write. :)
LikeLike
Wonderful, love how it flows effortlessly, the reader just melts into it…great!
LikeLike
heavy emotions in this and wonderful images…the scarlet letters, the blue heron…a wonderful write
LikeLike
Thanks to all for your input and comments!
LikeLike