The morning held a gray shawl
shielding eyes
sunlight spilling
brief instance of a blue sky.
Lay inside whiling in covers
imagine morning
wandering soul
would want answers again.
Now a coffee, a mellow morn,
winsome airs
losing its shawl
soft, sun breaks in crystals.
Morning sunlight is a radiant
synapse to know life is blissful.
Can you remember when one time we forgot about who we were,
just went with,
just felt like the two of us,
all that minutia which wasn’t important at the time,
suddenly reared its ugly head,
and there we stood
in the quiet rain.
That (part) of our lives we didn’t wish to know
wouldn’t leave,
wouldn’t go away,
wouldn’t let us ever forget,
this time, next time, anytime
a notion of sensuality entered our mind,
we could only speak to the reality,
that piece of ourselves
we might never leave,
we would never leave,
we couldn’t no matter if we might create a fantasy,
that made us want to,
wish to
believe we could,
and yet,
sunrises and sunsets, full moons and the milky way,
we see them every night and day,
the rest of our lives.
Love.
© Scott F Savage 7/2021
I could feel the drops hitting the top of my hat,
it was the hiking hat worn
so many times before when the sun beaten down
now gave it its own worn
look of better days, though today in the rain,
its very meaning, the idea of cover,
its job had been clearly carried out,
well, at least in the rain.
~
I wondered then, as I do tonight about time,
does it really change,
will absence create a fonder nostalgia
that no one can recall the good or bad times,
only the rain,
as it fell down today seems to make a mark,
a damp reminder perhaps of tears.
~
I know that tomorrow will be a sunny morning,
a walk in the radiance of a bright rise,
might do me so good,
shake the aftermath of a downpour
that emotional journey we seem to let ourselves upon
when it is we feel the air begin to change
we know a good rain,
bring us all fresh flowers in the morning.
© Scott F Savage 6/2021
We all have them,
taking another walk around the block,
a typical, know the path route,
only the sun was setting
in some different way
hundreds of dusk afternoons,
throughout my life
yet this fade into twilight,
my mind elsewhere,
paying attention
only to the pattern
concrete blocks,
taking me home
or
somewhere surreal,
is this village now
my home,
I noticed there are structures in the way of the sunset,
the one I would watch from my front yard,
settling romantically into a
quiet surround of forest green.
But I only watched it alone
for twenty years,
until one day,
she came into my life
let me see the sunlight
in a different way.
So now I do wonder
what is my new dynamic,
what will our lives become,
a quiet solace
a silent awakening
a different pitch upon the rays
would might I wish
illuminate my night.
© Scott F Savage 5/2020
saga upon one
torn invisible heart-ache
healing soul in sun
There is that glance,
mine is searching,
early morning faces,
waiting upon a facade
all privacy inside their own
personal planner
like any other day.
My eyes open
the village outside
my life no longer
the exclusive
neighbor
cutting a lawn
in the surface
drawn cul-d-sac.
My table the same
coffee on my left
headphones
people watching and …
creating words,
finding words,
searching ever more
the right moment.
I remember again
like yesterday,
she scarves an elegance
standing in line
laceless tennis shoes
lean back
left leg straight to hip
resting, planted posture,
right readied
fragile bend at knee
pirouette.
Oh to might her glance
may she my eyes smile
©️ Scott F Savage 4/2020
© Scott F Savage 2019
While watching the sun rise
this a spring morning
an intensity is felt in so many waves
a passion,
memory,
sweet notions, remember a walk,
a trail into forever
lives matter
a heady stream of shadows
those we generate
by wanting to remember
alongside
our darker turn
where lives seem to lose their sheen
instead drawn to speculation.
Sunrise, sunset
Every moment in memory
would begin with a soft trace
fingertips touch skin,
an erotic feel, sensation,
the wonder of peace inside a tranquil travel
sense her response
he his own,
together in the sunlight
a damp spring morning
lives do matter
together would be our dreams.
sunrise, sunset
Would we might lives choose.
Ever watch the moon cross the sleek sky
simple, remarkable, out of our control
spectacular, astounding when in its whole
a magic, a mystique, lets us question why.
Might a person ever recall time in pleasure
while asleep in life, a sudden stir of mind
did a lover once say let us always rewind,
going forward forgetting passion will reassure.
What feels right, might be her rite of passage
forging a path lets us all ignore our selves.
Press on the pretense was meant upon shelves;
a library, sullen literature, a romantic message
I took a walk this evening under the moonlight
imagining sensuality prolong sunrise … might
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