I miss

I miss the self that I became with you
I miss your gaze as  broad as any hawk’s
I miss   your words that were with love imbued

I miss  your heart  and all our loving new
I miss your humour and  your potent thought
I miss the self that I became with you

I miss the words we fashioned from  our view
The new ideas by which truths were taught
I miss   your words that were with love imbued

I miss the imitations you could do.
Politicians were with laughter caught
I miss the self that I became with you

So much more, the more our knowing grew
As the depths new understanding brought
I miss your words that were with love imbued

Context,frame,perspective all made new
From the  flesh, a  tenderness was lit.
I miss the self that I became with you
I miss   your words that  made our love   anew

Advertisements

About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
This entry was posted in Thinkings and poems, villanelle. Bookmark the permalink.