Poetry
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While I Wait

© Sandra Teles. All Rights Reserved.

 

The sun comforts me this morning of the first,

April in splendor of Spring

Dishing its gift of gold, massaging my bones with vitality,

Burning off the looming spirits.

Stargazers. Pink. Unopened.

You’d bring to my bed.

Unfulfilled dreams,

lingering year after year.

 

I wait, while the water runs;

Still, not a sound, not a call.

I dip in the porcelain tub

Sinking into warm bubbles that let me down.

 

That night brightly lit in my mind

With candles and scents.

For you: just a happy convenience.

Again I fell in your web of delicate charm.

 

The air now cold. The warmth descends under water.

She stares back at me in the window

with her skin lack luster.

Another year has skipped by.

Strokes of laboring love deepening at the eyes,

Irreversible.

 

The bubbles continue to vanish.

The water clear like a mirror

Shows me what I’ve missed.

Still no call, no message, nothing —

Why no refuge for the defender

Whose aggressor sleeps well at night?

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