A Number in the World
There is a number in the world
I cannot call; for you are not dead
the bot waltzes and tones.
When talk of you over coffee
in a shroud said a week gone
the leper smiled his face
from you to a young lady
dressed in corals
I saw you I thought.
My body lifted to come
to hold the melting dream
but I could not say if still
you are my want and all we
screamed and languor
bound me but where I could
and I picked your digits
which are just pebbles
in my hands from the webs
between the curtain
and the truth.
I dream, when I lay
in a cottage of us, my
heart beats in your chest
and yours in mine;
and I wake alien in myself
to give you back.
but I cannot call you.
I only ask the rain inside
when it allows blue sky
why you ever left.
Nice works! Kudos!
Nice write up… Deep & profound.
I’m gradually, but steadily falling in love with poetry, and often I wonder how you are able to paint so well with words!
Beautiful and mysterious.
Lyrical and mysterious.