Remembering not a moment of grace, But a moment laced with it, I am thrown back on a present Where only the intensity of the senses Can justify the warmth, The look of shadow on her shoulder, Light on her hip; A reflection on the blackened glass, Light up from below. That is not as good. What I have fallen from, Perfected by love into something only possible, I do not want to falsify any more than that. Now there are only the eyes And the hands to fill out. ,
Reason for writing:
What else? Hubris over a lost love (or at least, what I thought was a love lost,
at the time; I mean, it seemed so real! The really nice dreams always do). This
particular poem was written in 1975.
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Ronnie A. Herrin / Libra.