Bristol Rose

by davidchrzanowskipoetry

 

Unpublished (2012).

To you, my friend of several months,
You’ve become a canopy over true sight,
As my irregular heartbeat blinds me further

Mimicking surrounding sounds,
Knocking crotchets off-beat,
Causing my senses to follow
Over a path leaden with wet leaves,
Leathered by uncharted weather
And brazen touch to my worn soles.

Umbrellaed under warming, lustrous joy,
A safety within the unknown.

Mists whisper amongst the night air,
Our skin rippling at the same frequency,
Respiring above springs, and we knew
We were uncharted, but not actors making for a role.
A calibration to my finger prints,
A comfort to my senses and my worn soul.

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