Leaving the wheat with the chaff. This is not your mother’s poetry.
A tenuous magic
exists this morning,
as we lay in bed
daring not to speak,
move, or even hardly breathe,
lest the spell be dispelled
at the slightest stirring.
hello. i too write poetry, and i wanted to compliment you for describing what could’ve easily turned into a cliche sceneario, but you managed to keep it short and honest (to the point where i could visualize it and kind of felt intrusive)
so bravo! wonderful piece.
Thank you. Intrusive spying isn’t all bad is it.
that is a very true poem Julio
Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:
You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Google+ account. ( Log Out / Change )
Connecting to %s
Notify me of new comments via email.
Notify me of new posts via email.
Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.
Join 483 other followers