Weariness lines her eyes, like kohl,
A gem burns bright in each.
Each blink takes its due luxury,
buoyant, back-floating on the surface of time.
With her, rustles her listless skirt,
tinkling sighs.
A smile that blossoms quietly within
Lips settled in the grooves of habit.
Crumpled locks brush her soft shoulders,
and whisper kisses and promises in her ear.
Limp fingers that ache
to lace with elusive healing.
The woman with dreams
of dreaming.
Sixty Nine
“tinkling Sigh”thats all I can say.
I know her! 🙂 – GGG
“Lips settled in the grooves of habit.”So many lovely images in that one line.
Too much imagery.Too much for me to digest.
why is it so easy for you to churn out something so beautiful?
Not me, although I would probably have said something to that effect.
you wrote you.