Inside my bones I carry words of you.
Dusk is oblivious to everything but blue.
My hand is tracing what is left of light,
Dancing westward upon the rim of sight.
A few warm whispers now are left to shine
Of all the treasured letters that were mine.
The mood we shared is slipping out of place
To glitter like a minaret in space.
No matter that your winter went too far
For me to reach by caravans of stars.
Solace is printed on my windowpane,
In case your poem comes this way again.
Previously published, The World Poets Quarterly, China
This is so beautiful, my favourite part: A few warm whispers now are left to shine Of all the treasured letters that were mine. The mood we shared is slipping out of place To glitter like a minaret in space. Amazing Sandra, Love duncan X
The title of this poem is wonderful and inventive, Sandra. The rest is worth reading as well :)
I confess I thought the title was a bit long winded, but the poem is technically excellent and the imaginative content even better! Easily gets 10 in my book! Best wishes, Patrick
I agree, the long title attracts but is deceiving...... There is an amazing display of your skill in the poetry. The rhythm, the imagery, the motion.... this sure is a technical marvel. Undoubtedly, they should have a ranking system higher than 10 for such gems.
Sandra it's a wonderful poem. An adorable piece of poetry. Top score! !
i am speechless, Sandra, i cannot find the exact words what to say..it is here in my heart..i wanted to shout it out what i feel right now..This is very touching, you give me peace of mind today..I LOVE THIS VERY, VERY MUCH
I absolutely love this poem. It was my favourite one read out loud and I played it more than a few times to really capture the words. It is sublime and you covered perfectly how a cherished one's words stay within our bones and within our soul. Just beautiful. HG: -) xx
This is sad, but not maudlin. For me, it draws the image of somene sitting by a window as the sun goes down, holding an old poem or love letter in one hand, and remembering. It's a beautiful image and I'm glad I picked this poem to read and spend a little time upon. Thank you for writing this, L&T
Your poetry reaches and touches me at an incredbily deep level. This poem was no exception. Bill Grace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
As I read this poem, it is dusk - and indeed, only the blue flowers are still visible from my window. The imagery of the minaret and the caravan of stars - an indelible impression. As the sun westers, the mind is drawn to the darkening East - where this poem appeared, and where a new day dawns when ours fades.