Comment on this article

The Look
by Robert Riche

After they left, our closest friends,
she turned and looked at me
as if something lost, prized,
mysteriously had been found.

The room was mostly dark,
but in her eyes
there was a lustre
like that time, the first,
long ago that autumn
in the yellow meadow
where we picnicked,
when without a word
she told me everything
I had hoped she might be thinking,

as now, tonight,
candles sputtering down,
wine bottles empty,
smiles of these friends
still warming the room.


Return to:

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

© 2001- 2013, Quill & Parchment Productions
All contributions are copyright of the respective authors