Farm Fresh

Farm fresh


and only slightly frozen

you had rain dripping from your eyelashes
and every word you said ended in a promise
even I knew you couldn't keep.
But I remember.
I remember when evening fell on our shoulders
like ice in a scotch glass
and the nicotine stains on your fingers looked like bruises
from trying to hold time too tightly. My hands are bruised.
My shoulders. My back. My thighs. All
blotched with purple-yellow petals from a field

filled with the growing shadow of the mountain where

you stood,
shadows stretching from beneath your toes in my direction.
When you reached your hand towards mine

I knew I would fall into that darkness.

View c.locke's Full Portfolio
Starward's picture

Your use of imagery and

Your use of imagery and metaphor is so verbally skilled and artistic!  This is a very beautiful poem, and I look forward to many more from you!


[ * /+/ ^ ]

Morningglory's picture

Couldn't say it better myself

Everything starward just said

Copyright © morningglory

Starward's picture

Thank you for that mention,

Thank you for that mention, and yes, she is very good, isn't she?  I think we will be seeing her continuing excellence as she posts some more in what I hope is the very near future.


[ * /+/ ^ ]