Sepia Tones
Living slow, writing fast
It was more of a feast than a fast
Living slow, slowly living, lead to writing
Fast
The comma and correct grammar mean everything,
Change the meaning in a New York minute
But this is poetry
I digress
Then go came along
A distant cousin to wait
And then the cold
Which was more like an artic covering
Margins grew wider
Yet like the moon
Poetry waxed and waned
And then in the slow fade
Of the day
Words fueled more words
Infusion of encouragement
Stoked the flame
More hat tips
And head nods
A symphonic explosion
Of pure unadulterated
Grace
And surprises
Peek-a-booed into her soul
And in the shadows she
Began to see
A poem
Neither slow nor fast
But traveling just right
And in the sepia tones
She found inspiration
Dancing in the shadows of the roman shade
Of light
That whispered stop and stare
There is poetry in the window
There
Framed
There are lines that
Need a home
And the muse he whispered:
You will find a
Poem shivering, cold
And waiting there
Penned like hieroglyphics
Piercing through
By light of day
Blanketed by quiet
Wintry air
A poem raises
Up her golden brown
And faded head
In tones of sepia
Freshly inked
Nuanced meanings
There
Living slow, writing fast.
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Responding to the poetry prompt, sort of, from the creative folks at Tweetspeak Poetry “How To Read Poetry” #howtoreadapoem in celebration of the release of Tania Runyan’s latest book “How To Read A Poem”
elizabeth w. marshall 