I was going through a cabinet, trying to spring clean, and came across a file from my Comp II class at Rose a million years ago. Our assignment was to write a poem about the name which you were given on a piece of paper. No one knew who was writing about who, but you, the writer. So, to this day, I have know idea who authored my poem, but reading it again after 30+ years sort of took my breath away... We stand faces close, eyes locked in a gaze neither is willing to break. Breath, short and quick, as though the ability to breathe has expired. Touches, light and deliberate as though a heavy hand will break the spell. Bodies, trembling and weak as though anticipation is kryptonite. Heads tilt, eyes close lips, dry with fear and wet with anticipation, part slightly and meet. Tongues, soft and willing encircle each other in an intimate tango. The moment, so long hoped for is gone in an instant, never ending in our soul. The moment, so long a dream is everything the dream promised, and more. The moment, repeated one thousand times, can never happen again. Has it indeed happened? No, not yet. How can I describe a moment, one not yet lived? Because I have lived it, a million times, in my mind.
Posted on: Thu, 13 Mar 2014 17:04:11 +0000
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