Poem For An Unremembered Experience

I sit, eyes closed, ears open.

Your ethereal lilts are like ghosts,
haunting the corridors of my
memory and the rooms of
sensory enjoyment in my mind.

Now you are soft spoken and sung
with a feeling of silk roughness
which comes to my ears like a
lover’s mouth, gently nibbling at the lobes.

An original poem – please seek permission before reproducing in any way.


About Mark

I'm a forty-something Welsh-American. Other interests outside writing/blogging and very amateur photography include gardening, cooking, and sports, esp. rugby union.

Posted on May 10, 2011, in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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