Not Lost in France
Poetry
Questions!
Questioning the
time
we passed
together,
the
moments
when we
shared
what
no other can.
Holding on to
our dreams,
fighting
our own personal
demons,
running scared,
the two
of us
racing toward
inevitable
uncertainty.
Making
love
and
escaping
elsewhere
beneath the duvet
that kept us warm
on november
nights.
Questioning the reasons
for loving
the
other
refusing to
accept
that perhaps
the hands of fate,
one winter’s day,
would take us
and
break us
leaving us
with our
questions
and
the
silence that
no one
invited.
David English © January 2008.
Two
lights,
two simple
candles
on a black
laquered table,
our lights,
a
bottle of
wine,
cheese and toast,
her arms around
me
holding me
close and
her
in
mine,
laying there
listening
to what
she’d
never
say.
I hadn’t seen
her,
she
whispered
then who was I
with ?
An image, a dream,
another
illusion ?
but feeling her
body
close to mine
I shut my eyes
to her
silence
and drifted
softly
to that
place
where love
lay
waiting
for
her
to
appear.
David English © January 2008.
Bonding.
Holding each other
in the doorway,
forgetting
the events of
another
working
day.
Holding each other
as we normally
did,
happy just being,
happy to share,
share the secrets that
had made our
lives,
and our
reasons
for
living,
pressing closer,
feeling
the
warmth
building as our
bodies
bonded
in that strange
cosmic way.
It only lasted
a moment,
or was it
longer ?
All I know
is we
both
breathed and lived
it, before
it
left us
standing
there
searching
why we’d
been
chosen,
and
we both knew,
deep,deep
down
we’d been
as
one
that
particular
day.
David English © January.
Words Unspoken.
She wanted me
to write,
write with my
soul,
to deliver myself
from all of
my
demons.
To free myself,
to let go.
I did,
but what did she
do ?
She held back
despite all
of
her well written
letters
and
the words we’d
exchanged.
She kept on saying
that I had yet
to see her,
yet to hear her,
yet to see the
girl
she wanted to
be.
something about
here,
something
about
freedom,
something she
thought
I wouldn’t
understand
So she
left
me
with all of
my
questions,
and
the
answers?
they’ll stay locked
in those
words
that she’d
never
been able
to
say.
David English © January 2008.
The Photograph.
It’s just a
photograph,
a simple
snap.
It’s in
colour,
not in
black and
white.
There’s a
garden,
flowers,
sunshine
above us
and
in our
smiles,
and
there’s
something
missing.
Something
that
stayed
useen.
The hours
the days,
the weeks,
the years
that
should,
or
might
have
been.
David.English © January 2008.
New Year Blues.
January sunshine
failing to
warm those parts
of us
that
have
gone back
into hiding,
having given
so
much
in the way that
we’d
loved.
Long winter days
spreading before
us,
time dragging by,
before
words
and
emotions
can free us,
free us from
the love
we’d so
carefully
painted,
on that canvas
called life,
we’d shared
all those
months.
Losing our faith
in the future
we’d
seen
through our eyes,
when we were
lovers,
left
with our illusions
on
this
winter’s day.
Me, with my writing
You, with your
silence,
we both
know there
could
have
been
some other
way
David English © January 2008.
November Star.
Her hands on
my
body,
soothing
and
caring,
living the present,
with each
caress
bringing me
closer
to heaven.
Moonlight
shaping her nudity
as she
placed delicate fingers
on each
aching,
invisible part
of my
being,
then,
turning,
my
nudity,
locking
into
hers,
with
a
solitary
november
star
as
witness,
we shared,
together,
that
particular night,
our
gift
of
loving.
David English © January 2008.
early morning
kisses
that brought
me back
into reality,
bathing in them,
hanging on
to each
touch of
your lips
as you
held me
in the dark.
Moonshadow
fading as
we searched
each other.
and with
each perfect
caress
bringing
us closer to
heaven,
the birds
on bare
winter branches
broke
into
song.
To soon
your depart
leaving me
there
in that empty
bed with
only the
softness
of your perfume
for company,
and here
I'll stay
until
the next
time I
can feel
your
kisses
and
your
body
close
to
mine.
That Look.
If she
hadn’t looked
at me
that particular
way
she had of
looking,
the path I
trod
would have
continued
without reason.
It was the way
she buried
her gaze
into my
soul
that stopped
me running,
that look
filled
with
Love
I can see
her now
in each November
breath I take
as I
sit here
waiting for
our
Springtime
in
Winter.
David English © January 2008
