Spring Light
Poem (Geneva) 05.2025
5/17/20251 min read
There is the sun,
the movement of the bright spring light,
in between the shadows
How the leaves,
imprinted on my legs,
move in a fluttered fashion
As if they were dancing,
on tiptoes,
to a Tchaikovsky ballet
Just a thought later,
they are gone,
leaving no trace,
on the surface of my skin
Now reflecting nothing back to me,
but the longing quality of my own thoughts
As the heart flutters, the skin stays still,
And meeting her, my breath slows
I still long for him,
A man I barely know.
Illusion, or something real?
A fear of the unknown.

