Moments are butterflies.
They die, kept in a jar.
Moments are kunik* kisses from the stars.
They're breezes, cooled by moon and warmed by sun.
Moments are wombs. So too a lifeboat fleet,
with all the boats deflating, one by one.
Moments are lonely flower buds.
Caress them each and watch them bloom.
Moments are sweet receding rooms,
with crooning walls and scented floors.
Moments: this verse, this word.
See it, feel it...it’s gone.
*Kunik: a way of kissing or showing affection, associated with an Inuit practice of breathing in the skin of cheek or forehead.
They die, kept in a jar.
Moments are kunik* kisses from the stars.
They're breezes, cooled by moon and warmed by sun.
Moments are wombs. So too a lifeboat fleet,
with all the boats deflating, one by one.
Moments are lonely flower buds.
Caress them each and watch them bloom.
Moments are sweet receding rooms,
with crooning walls and scented floors.
Moments: this verse, this word.
See it, feel it...it’s gone.
*Kunik: a way of kissing or showing affection, associated with an Inuit practice of breathing in the skin of cheek or forehead.
I enjoyed reading your interpretation of moments. Especially: "Moments are butterflies. They die kept in a jar."
ReplyDeleteVery nice.
Thank you very much Linda, appreciate the comment. :)
ReplyDelete