Quietly, she spoke of tea, toast, the after smell of cigars,
Let us say we met in a room: curtained, peeling, private.
Briefly she consulted the winter afternoon,
Reviewed the deadening, leadening sky.

It was discreetly done.
No presences danced beyond no lifted curtains.
Darkness had silted us away.

Words, like spoons, stirred the air,
slipped into a net of inquisitions.

And all we left behind -
Seems framed, now, by silence.



Lost ►


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Ann Foxglove

Sat 10th Aug 2013 15:48

I like this a lot - subtle and just a bit haunting!

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Laura Taylor

Wed 7th Aug 2013 09:30

Mmm very atmospheric this, like a private sneaky peek into an intimate moment. Love the 'words like spoons' verse - excellent writing.

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Steve Higgins

Tue 6th Aug 2013 11:23

Ver atmospheric -left me wanting to know more . .
Best wishes, Steve

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Tom Harding

Mon 5th Aug 2013 22:00

Hi John, enjoyed this. I like the detail of the first verse. A nice atmosphere.

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