DetailsThe poem, its numbers, and the conversation.

Before Departing

Member since 2006 · Posted 30 Apr 2006 · 3 comments

Quiet exhalations, incoherent murmurs slowly pulsing vein in your temple, pre-dawn light casting beautiful shadows across the room, across your body. Replacing the blankets you kicked away in some fevered sleep long gone; tucking you in like the child I'll never have tender caress across your stubbled cheek. Birdcalls from outside, and you stir; leaning down, pressing a kiss gently to your unlined forehead; closing the door behind me as I leave.

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3 comments

[9] Ranger 30-Apr-06/3:17 AM Reply

I like this. It creates an almost-complete portrait yet left me wondering whether you'd return or not. That uncertainty works perfectly in here to conjure up both an image of happiness and tragedy. I'm inclined to go with the latter mainly due to 'the child I'll never have'. That line, to me, is the most important in the poem. I have to admit that I didn't like 'tucking you in'; it felt a little un-arty in comparison with the rest, and is a very cliched phrase. That is the only thing I'd change though.

[9] Dovina 30-Apr-06/11:40 AM Reply

Good. A sentiment well expressed. But how do you know the fevered sleep is far gone?

[7] pollywolly 1-May-06/1:44 PM Reply

i found this quite a sentimental piece and must admit i rather liked the "tucking you in like a child" line as this portrays the innocence that love can be. great descriptive work