I feel you in the pouring rain

violent or soft as a summer breeze.

A bird in flight  you disappear into

the pixels from which  you  came.

Bruises of the soul are slow to heal

but I have become indifferent to pain

as cold as that seems.

Decaying gardenias fill my rooms with mortality,

decomposing petals saturated in dark secrets

kept  alive by the ferocity of desire.

They rhapsodize my dreams with the zephyr

of your sigh upon my skin.

We are a wasteland,  all  poetic breath died with us.

Now  I long for the clean scent of fall,

the smell of earth infused in deep roots.

Swaying wind chimes clinging to the arm of a live oak,

synchronized resonance of  soothing sounds

for the twilight hours.





69 thoughts on “In the twilight hours

  1. You have such a gift with words that bring visualisation and also fragrance to our senses when reading dear Holly.. Such a delightful read.. Though I am clinging onto Summer a little while longer.. 😉
    Wishing you a beautiful week.. Love and Hugs Sue xx

    Liked by 1 person

  2. How you’ve expressed summer …. wow! Beautifully and softly penned, Holly, and I so enjoyed this. I’m enjoying summer for it like love is fleeting at best. I’m fully emerged in Her. ☺️🌹


  3. I can picture you reciting this poem live at an open mic poetry or YouTube.

    The way I picture your voice sounding, deep, emotionally, and well spoke in the contexts of pronunciations and vocabulary. You touched my heart with this poem and I love it with every fiber in me. 🙂

    Holly! you are awesome!

    Liked by 1 person

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