"I am hearing poetry when awake, dreaming poetry when asleep, breathing poetry with each breath, I am living in a poem."

Friday, March 16, 2018

Dearest















Dearest,

I’m not sure why I spill ink stains
into your dreams, but somewhere
in the poetry I’ve left my heart.
I hope your lips won’t return it broken
or tease possible with a flame too cold to burn.

Forever is a penny word spent to buy trust.
Tomorrow can’t be seen, so give me today.

I’ve never felt the urge before to bare my soul,
or press flowers into words, but butterflies rage
within me, and I grow bold in their tempest.

Morning is climbing the rooftops.
I’ll know if the weather will be rain or shine
when I see the forecast in your eyes.

Love,

Marie




8 comments :

Outlawyer said...

I'm guessing that Marie might be your mother--I don't know - a very sweet and heartfelt poem -- thanks, Susie. Nice to "see" you! k.

Sara McNulty said...

'Forever is a penny word spent to buy trust.
Tomorrow can’t be seen, so give me today.'

Love those lines!

Jim said...

Nice letter, Susie. Before I even started reading here I thought of Dear John letters. Your letter is an excellent prelude to, a warning of, a probable coming of the Dear John.
I nay try writing one soon.
..

Sanaa Rizvi said...

This is beyond beautiful, Susie!💖 Especially like "Forever is a penny word spent to buy trust. Tomorrow can’t be seen, so give me today."💖

Fireblossom said...

I LOVE forever being a "penny word to buy trust."

Psst, I think you meant "too" cold in the first stanza.

brudberg said...

I love the thought of spilling ink in the dreams and a forecast in the eyes... great letter.

Kerry O'Connor said...

This is just beautiful, a confession of sorts, a poem, an enduring love.. all combined.

Margaret said...

butterflies as tempests... that's amazing.

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