Last seen in Meadows

Write her name on stone?
She IS the stone.
Place her under cloth of grass?
She IS the weave; the warp and weft.
No whispered name
or rime-tang tears
on a northern draft
She IS the air, for the last breath...
Hush now, Mother, rest.
 

~25 January 2008 11:25 am~

©  2008 Kahdoosch

You Danced on Raindrops

Drink wine from the wingtips of angels
Throw coins down obsidian wells
Step into the sky on the breath of swallows
Tread softly where daydreams dwell

Held hands by the scales of paper
Lips taste pale olive and kale
Walked through a glimpse of tomorrow
Visions through glass of another vale

You danced on a halo of raindrops
Tears from the gentlest of winds
Carried you over the widest ford
Borne home on a memory of fins


© 2007 Kahdoosch