Sitting in this five hundred thread count womb,
inhaling the scent of lavender and chamomile
as it wafts along the cotton warp and weft,


I am soothed by the muted colours that are
only visible, when we allow ourselves
a moment to slip inside.





Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

3 responses to “Counterpane

  1. Brendan

    Must be cold in Wales these days. Well, comforters like these are the payback. And that last line is pure payoff — the very kiss of intimate spaces. Glad you got around to posting something, I read this like a camel that’s got to carry this lovely drink of water a long way.

  2. So gentle, so delicate, this one reads, in its intimate coaxing of image. I can picture spring here, or its slow advance at least, the winter only steadily departing…it is a waiting I know and can empathize well with. Yet it could be a statement about people as well…our interactions…either way, a beautiful write, Carys. Every One Shot is always brightened by your presence!

  3. sigh…i want to be in that place…

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