Monday, 5 August 2013

First light and fading

Summer peaks, teeters on the pinnacle of full blown beauty.
I always did love the moment just before the bloom turns, a kiss from the rose on the vine.
Its Light exudes a chalky glow and reminiscences of what was.
And what might be again.
Sometimes letting go is all it should be.
All a woman wants is someone who fits the curve of her soul.  A place where noise and traffic and expectations are excluded.
Who can love her so she can feel it not how he needs to.

 So she like the rose can bask in beauty and exhale.
Saturday. Turbulence. I ask a man who used to love me if he could love me again.
His answer is a word.
And sometimes knowing is just enough.
Photo: somewhere in Ilford by my clever Uncle Barry who makes me read books.

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