Thursday, October 27, 2011

Losing the Senses by Rosalyn Ostler

One - It fades intermittently--
the perfume of orange blossoms
sweet in my nostrils, then a flatline
of fragrance, until a later surprise
when your face touches mine
and the scent of your rushes in.
My skin breathes your embrace,
Hording for the times of loss.

Two – I miss the taste of blackberries,
Caramel, fresh cauliflower, of shrimp,
Fried mushrooms, root beer,
Buttered toast, Hershey’s kisses.

Three – As clouds, fluttered leaves,
and butterflies dim, my mind scrambles
to preserve them. I imprint my brain
with sunsets, waterfalls, autumn colors,
saving the most precious space
for your smile.

Four – My ears strain for last sounds
Of mockingbirds, crickets and frogs,
The creek rushing through a summer night,
Tchaikovsky and Alley Cat, laughter
Of friends, your lips whispering love.

Five – And last – oh please last,
My fingers strive to remember
Their journeys across your face,
Through your hair.
My skin craves the communication
Of your articulate hands.
When numbness cloaks my fingertips,
May every touch live in their memory.

No comments:

Post a Comment