So disparate
My feet in clouds
You solid, eye to microscope
I run in the meadow, guided by thistles
I dance among the clouds
You counting atoms, an accelerator your domain
I heard words, something, you said:
“the last time I saw her face”
laughter of steeplebells.
I danced upon a lilypad,
the silkiness between my toes
the fragrance of jasmine spilling around
I think I heard your voice
(I think I heard you sing)
singing the last time I kissed your cheek
but you didn’t know me
all of the frozen ground around us.
You didn’t know, I felt forgotten
while your hands dealt with slides and papers
segregating numbers, calculating spheres,
quantum mechanics, astrodynamics,
my eyes bathed in starlight,
waiting for the touch to heart.
end 11/6/2016 (how did it get to be 11/6/2016…I was functioning on 11/5!)
S. Darlington
Incredible.
Impressive. I think it’s time I revealed the Great Secret of Writing Sci Fi, passed down from antiquity. Admittedly I found it in the junk mail, but that’s what it said at the top. The GSoWSF (*thinks* need a better acronym)-you must always prepend ‘quantum’ and append ‘of time’, viz: the Pinot bottle was empty and forlorn, all that remained was a quantum coffee capsule and the swirling espresso of time.
Ah, quantum leap; I may stick with mechanics–at least my car thinks I should.
Ah,fluttering infatuation, such a fearful component of love. I enjoyed reading this.
I suppose this is a step down from “Hyperbole”; thank you!
Very nice written piece
Thank you! I appreciate your reading. 🙂