The mist settles like lamb's wool on the lake
As I wait for the coffee to brew
My thoughts drift to the basement's chill
There's something precious
In creating with you
This fringe space inside us, outside of us
Spread out in mind
A refectory table set for dinner
two heads of state looking into midnight eyes
reflected in candlelight
Distance blurs
The fine details that never mattered
Our heartbeats touch
With double pulses
As we gather our poison darts in hand
And set it d o w n
Like porcelain plates on smooth wooden surface
The gleam of metal sighing into a windchime
Chain
Willing the other to go first…
Held in,
Chopin's Nocturne no. 1
I close my eyes, floating
About the Creator
Michele Nampalli
This space is breath for my sensitivity. The poems come fully formed. I've known for quite some time now that my art is about receiving more than creation...its the most natural way I know to process my inner world. It started when I was 7.
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