A postcard
Modigliani nude invites
my thoughts to wander back
to the ever so
light touch
of her
fingers as
she swept away my fears
helping me to
tear myself
from another past.
Her lips soft
and
inviting,
whispering the night away, banishing
dark clouds for
hours and I,
as if in a dream
discovered her
unveiled youth as I hid my head
between her breasts, forgetting...
The bead curtains, swaying with the
summer breeze,
imitating our mirrored reflection as,
bodies locked
together
fighting for other
answers, we
struggled through
the
night.
The stars fading and tiring
with us
a
silently ominous
moon,
our witness, just
before reality
came knocking
mercilessly on
the bedroom
door.
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