Em leans into Trev as two statues carved from the same block of marble. The slab of his chest galloping gently against her ear, soothing and soughing like the sound of the ocean in a shell as sighs well and subside, rise and fall with the cantabile purling of a morning stream. His hands lace themselves, a bow on the small of her back she wants never to loosen, the gift in the wrapping, delight suspended in the amber of this anticipatory moment, magical as youth before the cliff of age, before the cares and concerns of gravity weave their rivers, knowing the fall to come, but not just yet.
Monday, July 13, 2009
668. galloping gently
Em leans into Trev as two statues carved from the same block of marble. The slab of his chest galloping gently against her ear, soothing and soughing like the sound of the ocean in a shell as sighs well and subside, rise and fall with the cantabile purling of a morning stream. His hands lace themselves, a bow on the small of her back she wants never to loosen, the gift in the wrapping, delight suspended in the amber of this anticipatory moment, magical as youth before the cliff of age, before the cares and concerns of gravity weave their rivers, knowing the fall to come, but not just yet.
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8 comments:
Completely blissfull. I had a similar experience this past weekend. I wanted time to stand still, come to a complete stop. It's like floating on a cloud and never wanting to come down, but knowing, in the back of your mind, that you will eventually have to return to "reality". As wonderfully written as this is, as it bring me back to that"happy place", it also reminds me of the crash of reality. I hope Em has a softer crash landing than I did.
W, I am always reminded via comments that a post once written is like a bird flown from the hand, it belongs now to the sky. Thanks for sharing. Sending virtual hugs. Sigh.
...please, not just yet... a little longer...
Love the imagery and sentiment in the part that describes them as two statues carved from the same block of marble, immediate associations to well-known sculptures and to the theory of soul mates amongst others. Enchanting is the idea of fitting together, of curving into one another, lovers, but it goes beyond that, I remember watching a mother with her toddler once, cradled against her side, and thinking the same thing. Beautifully written. You've written the word soothing within the passage that follows and every other word therein communicates this as much. And though you speak of the fall to come, it only adds a sort of reassuring reality rather than removing the expectation, as though it were a reminder to revel completely, to appreciate entirely the moment suspended. Beautiful phrasing.
Sweetest, what I was trying to convey, was that perfect fit, the kind of fit that Michelangelo might have sculpted, chipping away two lovers locked within a single slab of marble. The poem kinda morphed into the eventual parting that time commands of all things. So, in short, it is an oddish little piece. :-D
Jim, :-)
"...but not just yet." This was a lovely scene.
Thanks Jen. :-)
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