Not yet love


Looking back,

There lay unremembered the wind,

The chill of a morn that entranced our feet into dance.

There had been a smile,

A brow had knitted concerned

And gloves had gifted the warmth of your hands onto mine.

Infuriating youth,

Your presence eclipsed all concerns.

A half-recollected reverie,

Our story translated on a screen black and white:

An undercurrent of fleeting moods,

Life’s certainties transmuted into chimerical objects,

And beliefs bathed away

In a covert upsurge of shadow and light,

Music and silence.

I kneeled at the feet of a not yet love,

Doomed to be haunted by its evanescence.


Daily Prompt: Good Fences?