December, daring to dream, thrusts itself into existence

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The wind perhaps is most perceptible when we speak of change,
blowing empty thoughts to keep my glass refilled–
somewhere, someone’s heart beating for me, cares.
And when I sense you must be there,
my pulse quickens–
I would’ve followed a prettier road but that would’ve left no chance
of meeting you,
trickling slowly down the shaft of an incense candle
is indecision,
or what’s left of it really
I would’ve clung to familiar things had the prospect of appearing false
not occurred to me.
Ah, what then broke through? What once was sewn with a needle–
Perhaps my lips have always hungered for the taste of danger,
of metamorphosis delicately coating my tongue,
you know I do, don’t you?

 

 

Photo credits: Marta Bevacqua, Drifting down to the ground

Posted for Midweek Motif ~ Changes @ Poets United

30 Replies to “December, daring to dream, thrusts itself into existence”

  1. Wow. My new favorite–with an exquisite first line and then every next line exceeding it. May your glass always be full! Refilled.

  2. “I would’ve followed a prettier road but that would’ve left no chance / of meeting you,”…I like the determination and passion for ‘the taste of danger’. A road less traveled by. Nice, as always.

  3. I would’ve followed a prettier road but that would’ve left no chance
    of meeting you,

    THIS is the image that speaks to me most in your poem, and I am going to cling to it fiercely…because I never would have met my mate except for the pothole-pocked roads we traveled to get to each other, and now are stumbling on together. Thank you.

  4. “…blowing empty thoughts to keep my glass refilled……” What a great description. I like the lines MMT quotes also, very much. Our roads may not always be pretty, but they got us where we’re going.

  5. Reflection of chance and choices throughout. This set apart for me: “somewhere, someone’s heart beating for me, cares.” The hope that each of us need. Thank you for sharing, Sanaa. I will continue to be a fan of your words until I can no longer read them.

  6. I love the way you’ve expanded the phrase ‘the winds of change’ into a beautiful love poem, Sanaa. These are such wonderfully scented uncertainty in the lines:
    ‘trickling slowly down the shaft of an incense candle
    is indecision,
    or what’s left of it really’.

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