Thursday, in Long Beach

The birds sang goodnightThurs in LB

          the phone rang

                    the sun went down.

I heard nothing                                               

          except…                                   

the sound of your breathing,

your face against my neck. 

To be suspended in the space

          called feelings…

…where every shift in form

          changes the atmosphere

          the temperature

          and time stands still.                            

Having known this

          can I ever listen to the birds,

          hear the phone,

see the sun go down, and

          not remember the day

          when time stood still…                                

                   except for…

…the sound of your breathing,

          your face against my neck.

 

All rights reserved.  ©2009 by Sara Fryd

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4 thoughts on “Thursday, in Long Beach

  1. Admiration for your writing is all I can say. I’ve always felt that if a person can put feelings and thoughts into words without diminishing those feelings and thoughts … they’re truly gifted.

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