Your poem is one of many sand crystals that when held radiates a sparkle in the eyes . Not really a quandary. But an erosion of time that wears down the rock to the essence of a moment.
Surprise the little lady, Sir! Get real creative, create a moment in time neither of you expected, be evocative and mysterious tell her she’ll have to wait and see, tension works at times when adventure is in the air!
Your poem has a very intense rhythm, with profound messages. I stuck to these lines
"But how is it
I remember
you."
Because I once met a child whose grandfather had died before she was born and she told me countless times that she missed her grandfather. I was always fascinated by this story
There’s that question in the whispered words at the end. I know you - but how can that be?
Your poem is one of many sand crystals that when held radiates a sparkle in the eyes . Not really a quandary. But an erosion of time that wears down the rock to the essence of a moment.
Thank you, Richard—words drop as grains of sand to grow the beach that awaits every hope searching for a harbor.
Sweet
This is so eloquent in its brevity, Paul. Ah, the mysteries of life.
Thank you, Rod—Yes, life is full of mysteries.
Nice poem. I would tell it to my wife, but she would think I have ulterior motives, and she would be right.
Surprise the little lady, Sir! Get real creative, create a moment in time neither of you expected, be evocative and mysterious tell her she’ll have to wait and see, tension works at times when adventure is in the air!
She will have to wait and see
and that, Lady Geraldine,
is the quandary
I think this “girly song” kinda fits the mood.
Carly Simon said:
We can never know about the days to come
but we think about them anyway
And I wonder if I’m really with you now
or just chasing after some finer day
Anticipation anticipation
Is making me late
It’s keeping me waiting
And I tell you how easy it feels
to be with you
And how right your arms
feel around me
But I, I rehearsed those
words just late last night
When I was thinking
about how right tonight
might be
Anticipation anticipation
Is making me late
It’s keeping me waiting
And tomorrow we might
not be together
I’m no prophet Lord, I
don’t know natures
ways
So I’ll try, to see into
your eyes right now
And stay right here
‘cause these are the
good old days
These are the good
old days
Carly Simon
1971
What am I?
Unreachable, yet close at hand,
A phantom kiss on distant sand.
Unknown, but etched upon the mind,
A paradox of humankind.
Wonderful, Gloria—thank you!
You are welcome.
Thanks to @Buku Sarkar for sharing this.
Your poem has a very intense rhythm, with profound messages. I stuck to these lines
"But how is it
I remember
you."
Because I once met a child whose grandfather had died before she was born and she told me countless times that she missed her grandfather. I was always fascinated by this story
That is fascinating, Rolando
This is a very elusive poem and could even be about an encounter with a lady or a lover in another lifetime, such is the intriguing way it's written.
Lovely poetry
Painful truths.
Beautiful
Thank you for stopping by to read and comment, Buku.
I had a future memory this weekend. It's so strange. It was remembering something that never happened.
So, when it does happen, Elizabeth, you’ll know exactly what to do.
WOW, short but oh so sweet. I love the question at the end --that was brilliant!
Glad you like it, C.J.
🤍✨✨
The longing for a home...I never knew...
I think you’re on to something, Sure—Thank you!
Thanks for the restack, @Jenn !
Thanks to @Rod Bluhm for restacking this!