The Final Morning

[Delta40]

The window sash bangs
In half dreams
I can see your hand
slip under the frame

Our eyes finally meet
You jest and tumble to the floor
as if drunk from
nightclub strobes.

my nose presses through
the timber slats
and I smell the sunrise
while you hold me close.

I'm glad you're home
You say so am I
I tell you I lost my purse
You joke, again?

The liquor on your breath
is enough to slow your chances
to a baby's lullaby
I wait until you snore

A stranger sees my cat
and calls out here puss puss
I sit on the verandah
wishing,
just wishing.

[deryk]

Ah, the desperation of getting caught in the moment, and removing yourself from it. I loved the innuendo, it added a surreal quality.

[MorpheusSandman]

I love the understated descriptiveness. A great example of what simple showing, not telling can do in poetry. It has the quality of a narrative without losing any of the evocation of the best poetry, and I love the ambiguous note it ends on. Very good.