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My husband wrote this.

Chronic Condition

Separated this far
From the start of September,
Held up to the light
And tilted it might
Appear, caught and held
Like lace-wings in amber.

Cool to the touch
But warm to the sight
“The moon,” she said
As she lifted her head,
Settling the matter
Stepping into the night.

Seeing her seeing stars
That might also see us
My thought’s finger raced
Where a touch might be placed.
A river of wind
Whispered lyrics between us.

& the song being sung
Rhythms rapped on some bones
Was a chronic condition
A repeated rendition
Hitting now and again
Like the clicking of stones.

The wind and the moonlight
& the song of our meeting
Were caught in my coat.
Gold hung at her throat.
Night’s arm wrapped around us
I still feel her breathing.

And
Separated this far
From the start of September
The moon’s in our skies
The thought’s in her eyes
When I think of those nights
Near the start of September.

Hi Manna ~

Is this a recent reverie or one that spans many years? It sounds like the Chronic Condition is one with which he's well pleased. Am I reading it wrong? Again, so typical of your own, there's such a sensuality about it. Lovely. [You can tell him I said that .]

It seems the other end of the spectrum... of a night spent with another person and the moon.




~ Lizzy

A well made poem. He knows his trade.
He has been consistent in his rhyme scheme. Very difficult to achieve.
I'm impressed by the musicality of it, assonances, alliterations. Does it have a tune to go with it??

Jimmy

... and might I tentatively suggest that he leaves out the "and" before the last verse. It's me. I know. But I like symmetry!!!!!

Jimmy