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
The essence of Ontyre captured in images.
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