Evening again lays down shadow
Like a cardplayer
With a hopeless hand.
At the bend in the avenue
A Fragrance of honeysuckle
Gathers up overhanging dusk.
Three trees by the bedroom window
Are unwinding the final strands
Of daylight from their branches;
With silent hands
You are winding another night
Through your hair.
What is it, is it that is in the air?
Something finished, or a thing just begun?
While the orchestra underneath what happens
Still plays on, will play on,
You go on twisting and untwisting
Nights through your hair,
Nights out of your hair.
Seamus Hogan's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Boudoir. by Seamus Hogan )
- Love Is A Feeling, Lilly Emery
- I saw my father, in silhouette, Thomas Leathandrum
- What are these days? !, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- What are these days?, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- A Flower In My Heart, Rohit Sapra
- The Cavity, Francie Lynch
- Exstasis, Frank Avon
- I'm a Piece of Work, Francie Lynch
- Some people's change, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Simply Marvelous, Electric Lady
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