Memory

A dream. Maybe.

She slips into my memory as easy as she did into my bed,

     her body folding into mine.

I hold her close, hugging tightly the memory of her,

     even as her hand slips from mine.

Reviews

[Kelly Scheppers]

Was it the dawn casting shadows from an opposite wall that told you, she was just a dream? Sometimes the night can fool us into believing what our heart knows isn't so.

It looks to me like you're back in the saddle!


One happy Kelly ; )

[C. M. Miller]

I do believe this is my shortest poem, ever. The night can at times be a harsh mistress.