Thursday, March 21, 2013

decayed

by Linda M. Crate

nostalgia waxes like the moon, falling over
me in the white wings of doves; yet the
memories are inconvenient and fickle, coming
at the worst of times like jellyfish rolling onto
the sea shore during the hottest summer day -
whipping me into a shade of maudlin that I
rather not acknowledge, it spins me in webs
of a spiders then sucks my blood; it's unfair
to think of you tripping over the tongue of my
mind like a laughing girl when your absence in
my life sings the loudest hymn I have ever
known; I don't know when we fell into this
state of decay, I only know that I don't like it.

2 comments:

  1. Linda:

    Very nicely done; accomplished in all regards. Wonderfully supporting images to the content. Trult enjoyed your poem.

    Rick

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Rick, for your kind words. I truly appreciate your support, and I'm pleased that you enjoyed the poem.

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