Sunday, February 25, 2007

not to touch
I read Neruda with you
in a dream that was
worthy of your untamed mouth,
your heavy eyes, they
hold the deep night's velvet
your roughened hands, impossible
not to touch

I woke with you
my eyelids
draped by May’s first dew, then
opened to cold solitude
an emptiness caressed
by dawn’s orange fingers
your touch fleeing on chaste butterfly wings

my love, a transparent child,
cries soft round tears
that float up and leave my
tender kisses in the
pure whiteness of clouds.

2 comments:

piktor said...

Calloh, I did some editing on this beautiful poem (the capital-letter words and comma are my "corrections"):

not to touch

I read Neruda with you
in a dream that was
worthy of your untamed mouth,
your heavy eyes, THEY
hold the deep night's velvet
your roughened hands, impossible
not to touch

I woke with you
my eyelids
draped by May’s first dew, then
opened to cold solitude
­­AN emptiness caressed
by dawn’s orange fingers
your touch fleeing on chaste butterfly wings

my love, a transparent child(,)
cries soft round tears
that float up and leave my
tender kisses in the
pure whiteness of clouds.

What you say?

Callooh said...

I SAY thank you very much.

I've never been much good with punctuation, and I like "they for that" and I'm slightly embarrassed at the basic "an for a" mistake.

perhaps I will put up more work for you to comment on!!