Every word that you utter is a life sentence to me.
Without your words, though, I would be empty.
You leave prints on the world around you.
You left a mark on the table outside the Café du Monte.
In the steeple of the church along the square.
On my very soul.
You strengthen the chords that echo
Like a symphony into the depths of time and space.
And I stand here,
Gazing at you,
In utter bewilderment.
I am honored to be imprinted by you.
About the Creator
Rachel Dionne
There is a story that a man and not a man
Saw and did not see a bird and not a bird
Perched on a branch and not a branch
And hit him and did not hit him with a rock and not a rock.
{How is this possible?}
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Dead and Wearing Green
She was wearing that green dress when I first saw her, five years ago to the day. Flowing meadow fabric draped over long legs, thick auburn hair flowing down her back. That smile. Of course, she is still beautiful now. But now she is no longer alive.
By Karen Cave5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Your lines carry wisdom and tenderness.