(15/07/56 / Curragh Camp, Co. Kildare, Eire.)

' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' Diving For Pearls(For Scarlet)

We dance around
our little flat

Glen Miller's
STRING OF PEARLS

shaping our bodies
to its rhythms

miraculously avoiding
furniture

ornaments capable of
falling

my fingertips
clutch...catch

the pearls
frozen at your throat

there is an audible
snap

a one by one
they come undone

each an eternity falling

like lost moments
each pearl

finding an impossible
place to hide.

Days later we still discover
like forgotten memories

a hidden pearl
curled up in a slipper

asleep in the cat's litter
inside an open letter

daydreaming under a sofa
beneath a feathered fallen boa.

Our bodies
clinging now

strung like a string
of pearls

set at the throat of midnight

dancing to MOONLIGHT

SERENADE.

******

Poem written for Sacrlet's mum back in the day when women had to be men as war raged and flared through history. I liked the picture Scarlet drew of her Mum before her Mum was her Mum...before we know our parents or our parents even know of us and are only thinking of getting to know each other. This couple in the 80's could just as easily be the dancing couple in the 40's...time is immaterial.

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Comments (2)

Dearest, this is so perfect that I almost don't know what TO say in thanks. My 'Mum' was a grand gal, one who made it through a depression, and two world wars, and gave me most everything I have in which to believe. She was not only an awesome Mum, but my best friend, and I shall forever miss her. LT
This is lovely in every conceivable way.