Renewed

ocean_waves_by_michellis13-d6ka6q2

Her eyes no longer red and raw

her hair fell across her face

a curtain of privacy

till he held her hands

a streak of lightning broke the spell

she drew herself up

like a wilted flower grasping at the sun

holding her face in his hands

he tasted the doubt on her tongue

pain on the roof of her mouth

before she gave in

shaking off the past

like raindrops off umbrellas

 

copyright J Tacken 24.3.2015

 

 

Train Ride (Prose with Music)

[youtube.com/watch?v=01dU6QO8PuU]
hands held
leather handles of bags well worn
weight heavy, as my heart
I stood helpless glancing towards
mountains, close as you
to touch
bitter cold
no words forthcoming
we held glances
on the empty platform

waiting for the train
time suspended, tears were shed
how far was it you’re goin’
till you reach your destination
call me, can you ~ will you
tell me if your happy
found your way

I’ll be here should you return
if home is where you’d rather be
you want to find yourself ~ you said
will I lose you if you do
a train pulls in
a last embrace
a tender kiss
doors close
my heart held silent
begging you
to stay

©jmtacken Jan 2014

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Perfection Prose or Pose

french-braid

I am taking a different path with this photo and not continuing with my version of the Blind Sight theme this week. I hope you enjoy – open as always for critique.

Red hair braided conceals flaws
untidy wisps curl 
to softly fall
upon her cheek
highlighted with blonde
nestles amongst the
colouring from birth
pale translucent skin not a blemish
or freckle have left their mark
blue the colour worn to compliment
is she perfection
head held high
or this pristine weave merely
a disguise 
her face not turned to
show us does she smile or
does she cry
the perfect her the perfect braid
what indeed would we see…..
should she ever pass by

For-

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