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Sometimes I forget
fibromyalgia exists
winter reminds me

 

~ Siobhan

12/31/13

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Rearview Mirror

The stoplight wasn’t nearly long enough;
I only caught a glimpse in the rearview.
Not enough time to drink in his image –
left thirsty, only a sip of blue eyes
(were they blue beyond my imagining?)

No cigarette dangled from crimson lips
– which only made me want to taste them more.
With no idea of height, just a hint
of stature by his casual posture
leaning against window and steering wheel.

Red turned green – envy my destination
as he disappeared around the corner.
I just passed, too shy to reverse my course.
He will remain in my rearview mirror.

~Siobhan
11/18/13


You blew in like March
high winds remind me of you
love is volatile

 

Siobhan
~ 11/18/13 ~


Black River Water

 

Colors washed from the day run together;

river water darkens from green to black.

My mood, captured in the dimming sky light,

grey mixed with muted brown, is overcast.

 

Winter’s approaching brings with it sorrow

unshakable – even after these years

of tears, rants, and raves, followed by healing

wounds that break open with a touch of past.

 

Time spent wandering among trees, along

river bank and deserted beach, provides

respite – a path to remembering you.

 

And although we never walked along here;

I find you blended in muted color,

our love in the deep black river water.

 

~

Siobhan

11/18/2013


You brought jewels for me
craddled in the fallen leaves
lit with morning sun

~

Siobhan

11/12/13


Eye Candy

Slim hips and broad shoulders, he leans against

the bricked wall, eyes shadowed behind glasses.

His crisp white shirt and blue jeans lend themselves

to his casual sexuality.

An ordinary man on a Paris

sidewalk, he is nothing special to me

or anyone I know, yet he provides

a glimpse of romance. Imagination

runs into dangerous territory

and I feel my body stir. Now I am

wishing for sunglasses to hide behind

so neither he nor anyone else can

see the lust loosened within, that coil

red hot and waiting for a lover’s touch.

 

Siobhan

7/14/13


Unknown birds sing songs

serenade our first morning

Paris in July

 

 

A backyard garden

bamboo rustles in the breeze

sun-dappled table

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