The River
It was years ago
she and I sought the river
thinking I was her lover
she already had a lover
the camp fire was lit
the crickets were singing
we were baptized in the river
her sleeping breasts were awakened
opening to the moonlit sky
two pieces of fine porcelain
river garden lit foliage
much like the Spanish moss hanging from the trees
as far down from the river
a horizon of dogs were barking
We picked wildflowers
strolled up the river stream
I kissed her dark wet hair
made a hollow wish in the sand
she removed her dress
I my wet pants and shirt
her skin mother of pearl
her thighs swam away from me
like shoals of startled fish
I was half cold
I was half on fire
we ran into the still night
down long dirt roads
mounted on starlit mares
The southern gentleman I am
will not reveal that which was whispered
this night being a discreet affair
sealed with river sand and kisses
we made promises in the night
among the fragrant wild flowers
that battled the summer air
Perhaps we behaved like gypsies
I gave her a basket of fruit
covered with a purple silk linen
she did not ask where the river came from
or where it was going
she knew it had no past or future
I did not fall in love
she already had a lover
she told me different
before we sought refuge at the river....
Copyright © Ken Carroll | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment