Hands Reaching Out
~Two chairs staring at each other…empty.
Meters away, dark fog gathers to choke their
fired gazes piercing the needles of discord
strewn on the caving floor both mute, raging…
both divided by scrolls of dead sea syllables that
gradually, a quivering throat assuages
another tattered heart lost in the mist
of anger; moving without movement on such
a sulfur night: and the chairs creak
in anticipation of hands tasting
a pour of balm. Till words ramble ,“
I am sorry,” his hands pleading
like a sonata of crying winds. Light
touches light once, twice--and her hand
reaches out ... a nearness of their skin groping .
Two chairs move closer and await
quarrel's mercy as starglow grants
lovers the warmth of forgiving embraces.
For Lover's Quarrel Contest
Sponsor: Lewis Raynes
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2010
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