Her thoughts wander to life’s little quandaries
as claret fire warm her lips and loosens her thoughts.
No amount of wishes can make right the wrong turns
or undo the choices made which brought her here.

Wondering gets one nowhere
except trapped in useless dreams.

Each night the same, fine dinner, fine wine
passing conversation back and forth like cards.
Little thought given to any of it
only idle contact without affection.

Closeness breeds weakness
an imperfection in sensibility.

To the minds of some, two are halves of one
but not closed in these ruddy walls.
Here one lingers, isolated and remote
barely casting shadows to affirm existence.

A second poem flew of my fingers today, so I had to post two for the same prompt. Giving due honor to e.e. cummings for the snippet “two are halves of one”.

“Secret Colors”

there are colors we know
the almost indigo of  crocuses heralding the spring
or deepest ebony, the hue of grief
perhaps vibrant crimson, the flowers of a bride’s bouquet

but there are colors we don’t know
secret colors
seen only by those who accept the wonder in the world

there is the seductive color of a woman’s swaying hips
drawing men to her presence
there is the blush of dawn, it’s stillness and joy
painted in the morning’s sky

these colors are not seen with the eyes
but with the soul
windows into a massive world of magic and spectacle


Hadn’t intended on this being included for Velvet Verbosity’s Prompt from E.B. White, but it it the right word count and fit so well.  I wrote it using most of the words from The Sunday Whirl’s prompt Wordle 57 – A Baker’s Dozen.