blank verse…revised

23 09 2007

She sits there on the water’s bank, her toes

caressing  it calmly through the smoothness.

The tiny crickets strike double drums hard.

She sits there, thick sky blankets her around

as dusk pulls her into a trance with its

canvas of pottery red and pale orange.

A Fire, its screeching sounds, she pictures

A man, every aspect: his smell, and touch,

Perfect, complete; they are together, built

for each other and inseparable, but

then He left, clichéd She thought. It wasn’t

fair to her, She was left, memories strike

of cigarette boats gliding over it,

antique, and brittle dock, the right support,

 just holding Him. Relaxed and carefree, it

is difficult with His calm, entrancing hazel eyes.

A  breath of wind stings sharp along her back,

the feet break mirror image, stands up right,

pries herself away, she glances back

as each minute ripple disappears.