Once, you heard space as soundscape,
tasted the difference between red and green
smelt the changing of the leaves,
touched to interpret shape.
And now the newly seen is mystery
a confusion of beauty
too much miracle.
You close your eyes, read the Braille
of your lover’s face,
feel her breath on your skin.
Her heartbeat in the dark.
Poetry Thursday prompt: synaesthesia.
3 comments:
Lovely! I especially like the way the last line stands alone.
it seems that the trailing "/" made the lind not work, and nicely done.
Thanks Catherine and thanks too Mike, I think....
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