Just like before our monsters bared their teeth
in early dawn when we had built a nest
of warmth, and like a butterfly you breathed
and pressed a feline spine against my chest.
We broke our slumber but we stayed in bed
to linger lazily and stay undressed.
Before the bluebells in your gaze fell dead,
when frantic fingertips we dived to depths
before the heated warmth of summers fled
into the cold of nights when heavy steps
and echoes of enchantments seemed to last
before we battled with our legal texts.
The turn we never took, I could have asked
to let us dawdle- stay forever in our past
Lolamouse invites us to write poetry to the art from AVM at toads, and somehow the bird’s nest fitted to the progression of my Sonnet Corona.. previous installments are here (“Bluebells“, “The tear of tears” and “Before the monsters“). Only 11 sonnets to go.
April 16, 2015