The Lip
The clamps of winter
Still fasten up the buds
brown on every branch
Now the Lenten quiet
a rumour of breeze
brushing at the lawns
Spring is a whisper
Of nodding daffodils
gossiping at the crossroads.
The lip, the edge,
The rim of life
Before breaking
“Embrasse-la de tes lèvres fougueuses”(1)
(1) found on an English/French translation website
Comments
I want to spend April in Paris! Your imagery always tickles me in those hard to reach places of my imagination. I’m there lulling in the lush drifts of that overgrown lawn, and as the daffodils nod, their secrets caress my eager ears and I know. Great reading, xox
omg… I can’t get enough of kissing when I do… you see that edge so slowly open and so so WOW!
when you linger a moment in the lull of close bodies before the first kiss there is all the imminent joy of spring on the cusp x
– Chris1249
breathtaking x
Thanks Lisa,,, Breathtaking? that is only one of the pleasures of kissing :-)
– Chris1249
Truly A most lovely poem..
Divine. xox
I sometimes think that is exactly the right word. The moment of purity before ritual, or sacrament feels very much the same
– Chris1249
beautiful