Evening Rose Poem by karen sinclair

The dusty window frames her form
Silhouetting her fragility as evening falls
With hands as gnarled oak
Clasping the unvarnished rocking chair
Her painfully crooked feet gently cause a methodical tone
Upon the now jaded rug...
Hypnotic as time...

Head relaxed tilted window bound her mind caresses visions of times
Long gone...

Where once there was enthusiasm, adoration
Frantic breaths within desired moments
Where she had grasped in exploration
Whilst he relished her soft young form....

During those poignant snapshots
Within a moment of staid meandering
Her eyes fall upon her now withered hand
A stark reminder of where she sits now...

She closes her eyes
So the fading light seeps through her now
Wafer thin lids...

Her world now a Rose tint of red hot passionate kisses
That moisten her lashes
As she inhales the sweet definite musk
of him...

Cleansed purely
Whitewashed
She raises, deserting her now obsolete shell

No more sordid pain....

Encouraged by him still so preciously young
All that she so cherished

She attempts to hide within her aged hands
Yet.. they are fresh...unblemished by time

As cotton sheets in a warm summers breeze
The couple share warm Rose kisses
Moist eyelashes and
Eternity.....