Sunday, January 12, 2014

POETRY: Immortal

©Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

For a moment,
I was immortal.
Maybe it is true;
it is the time
in which we live.
But in his arms,
his lips pressed to mine,
his arms around me,
his hands searching
my back for answers
to questions he
is too afraid to ask,
but when he handed
the small gift box to me,
when I opened it
to find the bracelet,
it was like being
transported back
to a time of
romance, with artists
and writers who
lived in a realm
of dreams that we
barely understand
when the right person
comes into our lives.
In a world that
would be considered
tres avant garde
to those too poor
to afford to love,
Candle light floods
the room with a dim
golden light and
violins stroke
a waltz, Lautrec greets
us and Degas and Gauguin
join us in a room
of the golden age.
We escape our
present to embrace
our past with all of
its passionate love,
without it's illusions,
is it cognitive
dissonance or am
I too jealous,
too trusting— I
hold onto our love;
yes, it's irrational...
it is why I
for a moment,
I was immortal.