Murmurs

When he speaks plain truth to himself, not often that is,
He whisper-tells that when he twists door handles, enters,
Rooms chill into icy, stony-silent, thin air.

But his deliberate shuffle awakens low-register murmurs,
Piercing, hot hissed hums.
Air full, no, fat.
Like him.

44 word quadrille for today’s dVerse Pub

Canto

Lean down and let me kiss your furrowed brow.
Let me sweep away the shadowy doubts,
Brush them aside with symphonic flourish,
With a lover’s grand, poetic gesture.
An ode to our unparalleled connection,
A canto for the exquisite years we’ve left to be.

44 words for dVerse Pub’s quadrille prompt: poem

Ricochet

Tired times, waiting, fleeting, stolen.
Meted tick-tocks.
Moments meant for someone else’s life,
Descend like sparse crumbs fall from the dinner table.
Mine to capture, hide, and cling to for all I’m worth.
Ricochet your guilt if you must.
Bounce back to me. Soon.