Wednesday, May 18, 2005

The Storm Recedes

The Storm Recedes

The storm recedes, explores me
with gentle tendrils in my hair -
at my neck, like lover's hands
in the after-time, sleepy.

Moisture rises from where I lay,
evidence of her passion. Spent,
I smile in her wake.

The lilacs have paid witness,
rubbed their knobby fingers
against one another -
set their scent free.

There I sleep, woven
into the fragrance, secure
from an infatuated breeze.


  1. Good morning, Erin. Hope you slept well? :o)

  2. I like this...and I didn't have to read it three times to make sense of it. Keep 'em coming!