Poetry 'n Prose

Tonight, Pumpkin Soup

It was all so long ago, I’ve forgotten

how it seemed to start. You seemed

to come from nowhere, from somewhere

inside me you eased out a hand,

a shoulder , a thigh and a smile.


Trees broke through the ground

it was as if I’d alway known these

your tender leaves; then rain gave

a shine to your skin and fruit fitted

my palm with a strange exactness.


I watched when you walked away

toward the door, I knew I was hollow

I watched as you crossed the river,

climbed a hill and drift beyond me.

Then you turned and began to sing.


It was soon after that you stole up on me,

surprising me with a gift, what else could

I do but hold out my hand and take it?

There it lay, fresh and good my tongue

bruised biting the flesh thoughtlessly


Since then darling, how many times

did we see red suns rising over the land?

how many moons have grown and dissolved,

they look dissolved tonight as I am older

my love for you endures as you lay there.


Glancing through the spoonful offerings

my pumpkin soup; not bad, you say, for

homemade, but my attempts to nourish

you will never die, when I know
long ago,

you gave me the world.

By 67paintings

A dialectical site of poetry, painting and the odd musical excursion into the unknown.

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