Still Life

 

Nothing stirs but the drifting shadows that claim what light can’t reach.
They’re parting unwilling souls whose pleas fade to whispered speech.
Rests the bedside table’s romance novel that lies sweetly to the heart.
Its crimson ribbon draped from the page betrayed a climaxed part.
A pool of wine as red as lips whose kiss pressed against the glass.
Is but one small trace of testimony to a placid evening’s past.
The songs made on warmer days whose winged creatures know so well.
Floral scented breezed dancing curtains seasons wholly way to tell.
A throne of slumber steals my gaze by cast sheets that’s left unkempt.
The pressed creases from where she had laid quelled my mocked contempt.
Dream ware silken evening gown overlaid the linen form.
Baptized in perfume its blessed musk was soft and sweet and warm.
Look my way I pray to thee as she crossed my transfixed gaze.
The conjured spells she evokes are in the nature of her ways.
Brief stay from all familiar things was what she saves me from.
Brief stay she dwells a pardon’s granted of torturous boredom.
She breaths for me and moves in ways I could never do.
I’m hers how I beg she were mine my love I wish she knew.
Departing for another’s touch another’s beck and call.
Alone again in where I’m kept a portrait on the wall.