William D. Borgen


A Fall From Grace

Poem by William D. Borgen

Arms reach across mountains to
seal the fate of lovers.

Teach me,
Teach me to savor figs, dates, acorns.

Your neck invites long sighs.

In our house of love are the aromas of
cedar and camphor.

Love is the smell of blackberries in August.

Love is the smell of the sun in a basket woven
of palms leaves.

Doors open and close with a click.
Tan feet pad the cool tiled floor.

Window shutters await the news,
and coasts and inlets keep their
thoughts to themselves with a faint smiles.

Your fingers weave the sunset into tapestries
lost to mediaeval pyres;
hues too, too rich
for the sable brushstroke.


Comments about A Fall From Grace by William D. Borgen

  • Carol Shaw (2/15/2005 11:27:00 PM)

    Oh the Songs of Solomon... lovely poem William.(Report)Reply

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  • Theodora Onken (2/15/2005 10:56:00 PM)

    Took me straight to the bible...and one of my favorite books...the Song of Solomon...this was enchanting.(Report)Reply

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Read poems about / on: august, sunset, fate, house, lost, sun, love, smile



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, February 15, 2005