The glimmering
early morning golden
light filters in
through the shadows
of the city

Coffee shop
sidewalk table
I sit with my
cafe’ au lait

creamy brown and wonderful
between finger swipes
I glance to
the park across
the street

Same time
every morning
she approaches
lightly stepping
between the dew covered
blades of grass

Bohemian skirt
flows in her wake
light blue wisps of fabric
as she gently navigates
the boxwood rows

A peasant shirt
hangs loosely
on the edges of her
bare shoulders
ties in criss-cross
pattern across the front
Sleeves gently billow
as she waves
good morning

Her chestnut hair
freshly washed
hangs beside her
elegant neck
in damp thick ringlets
I close my eyes
and imagine smelling
strawberries and honey

This is what the world
sees of her
and if it were only this
I would suppress
my wanton sigh
and return to my twitter feed

But what I see of her
demands my full attention
and makes distraction
to the contrary
a vulgar act

I see
the blades of grass
support her
as she walks
I see the dewdrops
turn away from the
hem of her skirt

I see
the morning
shadows rush away
from her
with every sweeping
as is water repelled
from oil

I see
the fingers
of morning sunlight
reach down and over
the buildings of the city

I see as she
reach her hands
over her head
and closes her eyes
stretching to touch
the golden light

I see
flames ignite
as the warmth of the sun
drenches her body
in the dawn
and casts her image
on the ground

I see
her shadow
grow two
elegant and powerful

and I see…

just for an instant…

her feet…

..come, ever so slightly, off the ground…

…as she wishes to go home.

About Eric

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8 Responses to Fallen…

  1. Meg says:

    Yes! Beautiful!

  2. Rita says:

    Oh, Eric! ❤️❤️❤️ this

  3. Silent Hour says:

    Words like a caress.

  4. Eric says:

    Thank you, Aurora. 🙂

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