Gold
Pale gold of the walls, gold
of the centers of daisies, yellow roses
pressing from a clear bowl. All day
we lay on the bed, my hand
stroking the deep
gold of your thighs and your back.
We slept and woke
entering the golden room together,
lay down in it breathing
quickly, then
slowly again,
caressing and dozing, your hand sleepily
touching my hair now.
We made in those days
tiny identical rooms inside our bodies
which the men who uncover our graves
will find in a thousand years,
shining and whole.
Donald Hall
6 comments:
wow, i love that line 'tiny identical rooms inside our bodies'. makes me wish i were a poet so i could create something so beautiful. :)
Timing is everything, you said it.
That is beautiful. Thank you :o)
O, to have come up with the words to describe that time in life when those kinds of moments happened.....
I could cry.
i love that poem too, i love the simplicity and straightforwardness and honesty.
Sian, you move through your life with such grace and creativity,
Jess, you are one of the most talented, intriguing illustrators I know,
and Lydia, one of the best writers.
Your work does for me what this poem does for you!!
wow -- nice poem!
Post a Comment