Being Late
I remember that little breathless
moment
when I realized I was late.
This one was like a flower
opening
not like the ones
before you’re married
that are like
razor blades
nicking your brain
with worry.
No, this one
was the sun rising,
ocean waves
kissing the sand,
thoughts of blue eyes
and blond curls.
This late was a smile.
4 comments:
Very nice, I like it, thanks.
Best wishes for your job.
I hope to meet you again,
bye,
Francesco.
http://nelventocomeunpescefuordacqua.blogspot.com/
What a tender beautiful poem. Thank you for commenting sweetly on my new poetry blog. I just put yours in my favorite places. Big Tent Poetry is definitely helping me make connections. i expect to read here often.
Linda, I loved this and can relate to both. The razor blade feeling and the flower opening. What a lovely thought, that second one!
Again with the perfect, sweet ending. Like a kiss! I'm hooked.
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