S p a c e s

S p a c e s

Fingers flit across frets —
Strong oaks, hummingbirds zipping,
I see them and smile,
Thinking of you.

In ribbons of smoke, that leech
from embers, and rise to wrap
the moon in an invisible embrace,
I imagine you, ghost.

In soft faces that light up —
Christmas in June, delighted by
crinkling wrappers and white hot sparklers,
your face slips in and shines, a mirage.

In the bent of shoulders,
stooped quietly, steely gaze, and
tranquil moments, between silences
and sunrise, there is only you.

When bark scratches my calves,
stained green by blades —
and night shines over my camp,
I know we share this moment too.

At breakfast, savouring warm
oats and morsels of day old bread,
sitting happily on dewed logs,
Feel your sweet gentle gaze.

Follow me down the rabbit hole:

Inspired by Pablo Neruda, a fantastic Chilean poet, best known (in english) for his love poems. http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-s-good-to-feel-you-are-close-to-me/#content

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