POETRY: Immortal

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

rationalize...but

for a moment,

I was immortal.