Sunday, August 22, 2010

my wishing stone

i will not call you my rose
in such an overdone tone, 
i will not compare your eyes
to the sun

i will not equate your hair 
to waves of silk, your hands
to satin

your voice to honey

your voice has always been slightly hoarse,
anyway, your hands worker's rough,
your eyes favor coal more than diamonds,
and your hair splits in places, to grey

you are not a hero of old
and you never know 
what things to say

i always have to call twice
before you answer the phone
it's never in your pocket

but warm wind comes in with you
every night, and your neck 
smells like happy memories 

you check the oil twice a month
and you always call back,
even if i left a message,
just in case.

you are not a gleaming jewel,
nor even a diamond in the rough

you are a smoothed and worn stone
deep in my pocket, that warms
more than it weighs down

and for that reason, it stays. 

6 comments:

kdolmstead said...

Yeah, so I pretty much love that and you!

YourOasis said...

amazing. :)

nia said...

Love this one!! Really do!

Yellow ninja said...

Really nice piece of writing Nadia!

YourOasis said...

beautifully amazing. :)

Lyn said...

Mmmm. Lovely.