a liquid disk of blackness
framed by an elipse of blue
strong coffee disappears in sips
frogs sing in the middle distance
secure in the neighbour's pond
evening doesn't need cream and sugar
a choir directs one to sweet linen pastures
...
a love story untangles the stream
wonderful attachment of leaves on a tree
his body pandhandles a touch
go, go, goes the music when it falls
time seems to splip through his fingers in a silky wave of fright,
taking life as if nothing mattered more
than a wine soaked smile
...
sh-e...she pleases blue butterflies
with string melodies clinging to her hair
cloud splashed cloisters
instead of a kitchen with a view
loud silences on her tongue
amid the silky moist skin
of reverend hands at work and prayer
love is experienced in shades
peaceful like a river

long time no see, Chuck... --k
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Hi, k. Thanks for remembering. It's good to see you guys again.
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k, I really like this just as it is. Your three lines made a nice bridge to open up the experience. I get the feeling that to do more would be like adding cream and sugar. ;-) -- Chuck
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Hi...surprising this page still holds its cyberspace...refreshing to read familiar voices...M
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Hey, M! Nice development! By the way, any chance that a Pyrowords e-zine might rise from the ashes?
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Oh, that was posted by me. - Chuck
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thanks, but NO chance...but who NO's what can happen? M
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What a wonderful twist on a love poem- last line corree will never taste the same- really Mary