It wasn’t there today,
that feeling in the sun,
that skin of pleasure
waiting to be stroked.
It may have fur (or not)
viewed from a summit
climbing has made mine
a pint to celebrate
with Shostakovitch humming
in my head, a warm breeze
drying moisture on
a loving friend’s tanned face
a trace of scent, a muted cry
as words and symbols dance
from branch to branch
following chance winds
or just another day that starts
the same but for some special
randomness, unlinked
to anything yet something
something happens, though
it’s better not to hope
because it may not come at all.
It may be quite extinct.
Like the way you’ve achieved a kind of will-o-wisp pursuit. Love stanza 3 and last line of stanza 6. Had a bit of trouble with the syntax in stanza 2 and is stanza 5 a little, well, abstract?
‘skin of pleasure’ – lovely.
Great start to the month!
Do you need the last two stanzas? Love- with Shostakovitch humming in my head. A beautiful poem I could feel the warm breeze even though it’s rather chilly in our stone house!!