• d_prexa 5w

    It was a kind of robbery no one had ever heard of before. A robbery where nothing was taken yet nothing was left either. A robbery done in the waking hours of a fleeting season. Yet no one saw anything. No one heard anything. Nothing was touched. Nothing was taken. Not a single thing broken. She just stole time and left.

    #mirakee #poem #pod
    @mirakee @writersnetwork @shren_jo_

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    She stole time and left

    What are you thinking
    With your eyes closed?
    Is it a girl and a boy
    Meeting somewhere along a lake
    Holding hands and watching a sunset?
    But your eyes are closed
    And you sit so still
    Across me - deep in contemplation
    A hand holding a cheek, the other
    Cupping a mug of warm maple syrup
    A table of cherrywood lies between us
    Yet it feels like a gulf of unmeasured girth -
    A bottomless pit of unheard thoughts, unspoken words and fast-filling silence -
    Separates us
    The dull echo of your flittering mind
    Strings the air between you and I
    Three hours have passed by and you have spoken as much
    As a sky on a moonless night
    The rain outside has stopped
    And the roses have begun to bloom -
    Little red heads peeking through leaves lush green -
    A raven somewhere in a cherry field
    The world is slowly coming alive - but time has, surely, passed us by
    The shadows plunging out of the fireplace
    Dance quietly upon your pacific face
    The paucity of haste running barefoot all over the floor
    Leaving naked dustprints on the antique persians
    A slow chuckle rises from behind the Grandfather's clock
    As if an answer to the applewood crackling in the grate
    Oh how beautifully it all plays in your room -
    This simmering silence
    Alas my heart is filled but I must excuse myself now -
    Take leave of you and your unstirring warmth
    The world, though cold it maybe -
    Is a promised world of mine
    And this room - your warm paradise
    Is an old soul's respite
    Nevertheless leave I must now
    And step into the humid air wondering
    Will I ever return to find those
    Orbs of ocean open and inviting
    Me to sail, drip and drown in?
    Will you ever, I wonder, find this world worthy enough
    To atleast once, come back to it?