Friday, April 7, 2017

No More, a poem

You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone? I don't think so; you knew what you had, you just thought you'd never lose it. It's like giving yourself an allowance--once it is gone, it is No More.

No More

no more skirts caught in spring breezes
like words flowing with the wind
from the poetic voice of today’s woman

no more the hard muscles of a chest
exposed by the removal of a shirt
as today’s man tries to impress her

no reason for him to keep hands
from pockets when impropriety
stands as the norm for many

no more wrapping her in your blanket
nor dancing her around in a night
that never sleeps, music that never weeps

no more the randomness of colors
exploding as she falls from the edge
and he falls onto his back breathless

nor more would she surrender
to the whispers of the night
nor blankets under old oak trees.

no more would she love the way
his words looked on her once she learned
they once were the gown of another,

slipped off, and left at his feet

Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

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