Slowly

• Poetry
• No Comments
• December 9th

A mid-ocean wave moves in
Deliberation stalking skin
Pacing, not yet racing
Time has shut its eyes

The actors leave the stage
Everything is empty, dry
And in its hollowness
Everything is more,
Echoes dance,
Shadows flicker

A mouth-watering drop
Falls to parched lips
A soul hits a high note
And curls comfort
Wrapped in smoldering hips