It’s one of those times when

some sort of light clings on

even as it should be night

as hands are sometimes

disinclined to part

as lips seem sometimes

stuck together in the

hesitant silence of the

nearly-night when love is the

amen to all prayers.

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  • L  On April 17, 2014 at 11:20 pm

    Sweet, soft and soulful like a sung prayer.

  • Jamaiquina  On April 19, 2014 at 7:25 pm

    I don’t know what the line is. 😦 I lose. But I love the poem anyway. (I’ll just keep trying to figure it out. You challenged me.)

    • fridayam  On April 19, 2014 at 7:29 pm

      Thank you for following me, and for the kind comment 🙂 The last line and a half was just sitting in an old notebook, alone and forelorn, so I had to write the poem that went with it.

  • Jamaiquina  On April 19, 2014 at 7:44 pm

    I don’t have much from my youth…pity! I was probably much more interesting then! LOL!

  • fridayam  On April 5, 2019 at 11:23 pm

    Reblogged this on Fridayam's Blog.

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