Lipstick Hour

The air catches fire at their touch
Leaves of the old oak, swaying thoughtfully
Aren’t they lipstick-red, there in the sun’s gaze?
Countless women strut out every daybreak,
Few ever read their steps
Fearlessness, moving among the hours,
Knows them better than they know themselves

She is pushing forth towards spaces,
Those she’s never been, as time arches,
As afternoon traverses the sky
A life yet to be filled
A box with many compartments
When you put out a hand to feel her
She is smouldering already in shadow

 

5 comments

  1. Absolutely love this! Love the imagery and word choice…so nice!!!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. A day, a life, the fire burns, fearlessly. Love it

    Liked by 1 person

  3. his poetry is always thought-provoking. I like to think of his verses and his composition beyond the writing and right there in the bottom of the surface. brilliant, as always.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I like what you like to think. 🙂 Thanks, Fer.

      Like

  4. Lord, Woman. I could sit with this one for hours. It takes me to a floaty space. Literally. So full and strong and sad…but not. I wish I weren’t in a hurry this morning! God. Thank You and Cheers!!! ❤️

    Like

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