by Bob Moore

The sunlight dances on the waves.
It shimmers, diamond-like.

The flecks remind me of your
thumb and finger

when you reach above our bed
and turn the lamp switch off,

flashes of green continue
like memories in the darkness.

I watch them glimmer, dim
and wait for the facets

of your eyes to appear. I pull
you closer, find your timeless face,

and know the dawn, the light,
the flickering moments are bridges

to an understanding I have yet
to fully know, and the soul

is also a lamp that flickers
off and on, and off and on.


Return to:

[New] [Archives] [Join] [Contact Us] [Poetry in Motion] [Store] [Staff] [Guidelines]