Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
Condensation of moments
Runs on the clock-face.
Time is not mine, or yours, or your girl-next-door's.

She is a dream in buttercup cream;
You the proverbial cat.

She is breeze through a wheat field window
And sweet hay in summer.
Skirt hitched wading through a sea of gold
And darting swallows sewing joy through dazzled haze.
She is sleeping tickled trout in silent pool
And bubbling brook melting sweat from sun-baked necks.
She is sky
In the eye of my mind.

She is the girl you deserve.

My conversation is wintry
And ice.
Or a drizzled day stained in damp autumnal greys
Setting awkward aches in joints and silences.

You are climbing trees away from me
Into the thicker dark of night sky
And my eyesight's failing now
To leap the gap between
You and S.
~For Chris x

I've had a poetry block for a while, so I'm a little rusty.
flashgrilled Featured By Owner Mar 7, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
Now even if I lay my head down at night. After a day I got perfectly right... She won't know...

The reverse is true. It's been a while since I've been online, it's nice to come back to poetry I actually like. Be cool DL-You. :)
Greybird007 Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2009
I saw her once.

Sadly, she didn't really see me *sigh*

... Quite evocative.
DifferentLikeYou Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2009
If you ever see her again, ask her what her secret is for me? I'd give anything to be her.
Add a Comment:

:icondifferentlikeyou: More from DifferentLikeYou

More from DeviantArt


Submitted on
March 5, 2009
File Size
1.0 KB