I Remember The Textures
Author: Pondering Red


I remember textures,
the feel of cloths -
velvets, chiffon, delicate laces,
thick corduroys, faded denim

the curtains blowing gently
in our room,
the wooden floor - chipped and cracked,
books all around.
I can feel the pages - rough - smooth
worn - new
I feel the places you slept on,
indented with your yoga stance -
the mattress on the floor,
the batik covering

I can feel the cool walls-
the room is full of textures,
alive and buzzing with a silent energy,
even after all these years -
these decades -

I feel as if I am looking -
hearing - tasting - inhaling the scents
of the old house.
Other senses of multi dimensional natures
remain - grow strong,
my love

yet I cannot feel your fingers
running through my hair,
long as it was
streaming all over you.
I cannot feel your hands holding mine
as we walked the narrow streets in the lamp light
at night time, as lovers do

I feel the places and the spaces
in between where you moved
your body -
the emptiness and fullness
of the eras of love and protest

I cannot envision you.


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