Quote & Poem 15/5/2016

“I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.” T. S. Eliot

Love Poem

The rain whistled.

A taxi brought me to your apartment building

And there I stood.

I had dreamed a dream

Of us in a bedroom.

The light shining upon us in white sheets.

You were singing me a song of your sailing days

And in the dream

I reached deep in you and pulled out a cardinal

Which in bright red

Flew out the window.

Sometimes when we talk

On the phone, I think to myself

That the deep perfect of your soul

Is what draws me to you.

But still what soul is perfect?

All souls are misshapen and off-colored.

Morning comes within a soul

And makes it obey another law

In which all souls are snowflakes.

Once at a funeral, a man had died

And with the prayers said, his soul flew up in a hurry

Like it had been let out of something awful.

It was strangely colored, that soul.

And it was a funny shape and a funny temperature.

As it blew away, all of us looking felt the cold.

DOROTHEA LASKY