Smoke
Smoke
where is the you
who first wrapped love
in sweet consent
resting on passion fire so fine
etched in scarlet molten lines
our like-ness?
there is a face I wear
behind my eyes
it is of you
memories portrait
scriven upon my heart
in words so false
who was the author?
was it my fire, your fire
that roared down to smoke
to distract the eye
shroud the mind
overlay on fading image
romantic novel rhetoric
I can”t find you any more
in the clearer vision of here and now
this time, this age
with all of the fiction dropped away
I can’t find you…… I
can’t find
you……
Copyright © Patricia Cresswell | Year Posted 2017
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