Sonata

Courtesy: Pixabay

A clock’s whisper,
its pendulum
swinging.

A candle’s flame
dancing,
swaying.

Sonata
Pathétique.
Each movement
moving my soul,
no more
need I know.

Your touch
upon the keys
to my heart
beating.

Fire burning
deep,
deeper,
awaiting release.

Waiting,
anticipating
each haunting
melody,
each crescendo
sensual,
your shoulders
enough to hold onto
as I fall.

©July 2020 Christina Anne Hawthorne

About Christina Anne Hawthorne

Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.
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