Cold Mornings – A Poem

Cold Mornings

Somehow this is an intimacy

Too far.

You      can      see

me      drift,


A bodiless form

That retains flesh.

Wipe your hand through;

You will

Touch nothing.


But I am naked there

In the soft cloud

White in front of me.


4 thoughts on “Cold Mornings – A Poem

Add yours

  1. Some lines there.

    Wipe hand through
    Touch nothing
    Naked there

    But the cold of the morning ain’t white
    It is there as naked as transparent
    Making love to all at once
    And we shiver in ecstasy

You can tell me anything (yes, even that!)

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