Poetry Is… Your Name


Glorious

The whisper of the phone
nestling in the crook
of my neck reminds me
of your fingers
scribbling love notes
on my skin

The honeyed lilt in your voice
pours music to my ears
a welcome distraction
from the poem
that refuses to be written

I give myself to the rhythm
of your glorious tones
drifting on the rise and fall
of your magnetic cadence
long into the silence

Until the spell breaks
and I gather sheets of paper
on which I have scribbled,
over and over,
your name

Is this not poetry too?

© 2017 Uma Venkatraman ~ All Rights Reserved

4 thoughts on “Poetry Is… Your Name

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