26 Friday Feb 2016
today
I thought of you
as tender eyes
met mine
and another
other muttered
her clothes never match
houndstooth
and leopard
aging westerns
leathers
the color of clay
a faint memory
of loving refrain
silver and shocking
how one can remember
the taste
of november
long past the rain
. . .
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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Nothing short of magic here, Bobbie. Ya done better that best !!! …………xo
Thank you, dearest Paul…………. As ever, your words humble.
‘How one can remember the taste of November long past the rain’. Quite exquisite!
Thank you so very much, my friend………… You are far too kind.