For International Poetry Day

Transience

Something moves me, something pulls me down.

Your voice, low, aching within me pulls me down,

Your breath so near, you smell so heart achingly pure,

A careless word — my name — brings me back,

Just for a moment, almost… then you are gone

With a dying note hanging in the air, you are gone

Leaving only a too soon fading warmth in my arms

As I hug your coat and hang it on the rack.

Your face — I cannot even see your face,

Though your eyes are warm melting through my tears

— A delicious shudder at your memory,

A shiver deep within when you are near,

And you ignore me…  — No! What a fool I am!

You do not even see me – how could you?

— And if you wanted me I would be lost.

© MMXV  Zoë Elizabeth Butler

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About Zoe Nightingale

I am a writer of short stories, novels, poetry and non fiction.
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