Returned

[IsabelG]

Unfinished breakfast,
oranges scattered,
cut in half,
yeasted dough covered,
beds still unmade
and radiosounds whisper:
hold me, hold, hold me.

Feeling touched
by so much morning,

so much of the holding
that had left last night,
returns just to be here
upon this table,
in simple sights.

[moon]

Hi Isa!

You know why I love this one: It's the lyrical combination of existing things like the bed, which is unmade with just reminded ones. Waiting for the day to come, not made yet as well. But like a puzzle of memories it seemed beginning to create itself. "Simple sights", simply perfect.

Thinkin the passage in the middle is an amazing transition between the two main stanzas. And further on "Just to be here" like a sudden touch of someone's hand from behind. I felt it.

Always a pleasure to read, Isa.

moon

[IsabelG]

Hi moon,

I am very glad you liked it Thanks for reading and commenting on this one. This was one of the few poems that was quickly written, without too much thinking, sometimes better things evolve from such moments than from "overthinking"

Greetings,
Isabel