Between the pages
of the book 
you left for me
on the bedside table.


In the silver of the air
beneath your slender fingers
gliding across cold ivory.


In the minute intervals
between the notes you sang
to soothe my silence.


It is in these spaces,
these precious places,
that I am – still.




1 Comment

Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

One response to “Fermata

  1. I like how two meanings of the last word 'still' apply at the same time to the poem: 'still' in the sense of 'nonetheless', and 'still' in the sense of 'unmoving.'And so my breath caught for a beat, at the end of the poem. ;)Cheers.

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