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 |    Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
| There comes a softening... ...to grey clouds wrung of rain that wisp across cold dry terrain that begs for what they cannot give having given all and more. © Kåre Enga [171.S1] 11.diciembre.2014 There comes a softening... ...to old books when spines are spent, pages yellowed, stained and bent. What wisdom have they given Ages Past and yet still give. © Kåre Enga [171.S2] 12.diciembre.2014 There comes a softening... ...to sore lips when balm is spread and then removed by lingering kiss... ...that dare not stray past yearning flesh, remaining a smile for what's been missed! © Kåre Enga [171.S3] 12.diciembre.2014 There comes a softening... ..to cantucci when dunked in milk by a five year old waiting for father's voice... ...while sirens scream a mile away: fire, a body trapped, burnt flesh, a wreckage of a speeding car that won't reach home. The side door opens this stormy night to whoops and hugs while father's raincoat drips. But... in another house... two cookies wait; a child sits. © Kåre Enga [171.S4] 13.diciembre.2014 Note: cantucci (canTOOCH) is a biscotti. 78,707 |
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