It had been a brilliant summer the year I turned twenty and this painting puts me in mind of it.
House At Rueil by Édouard Manet
And even in that I had been practical
On your face I see the mark of time that passed too quickly
There in lines of anguish and bliss
Along eyes and smiling lips
With shaking hands I reach out hoping to erase the sorrow and you bury your face in my palm
Pressing your lips and forehead with tendre against my touch before taking hold my hand to sink your teeth in my flesh
You’ve left a wound but it like pain is soon dulled and all that remains is the memory of the warmth of your face against my hand.
My love my care,
Simone
oh, melt my heart...
ReplyDeletereminds me to enjoy what's left of my 'youth'... what IS left of my youth (?)
As the poem, it's all in the heart...bitter-sweet
true... :((
ReplyDeleteHi All,
ReplyDeleteI received a few emails about people having difficulty posting comments and hope with the help of blogger to have the matter resolved very soon.
Warm regards,
Simone