like a book
that always falls open
to my favorite lines—
this memory of your crooked smile,
your open hand
March 27, 2017 by Rosemerry
like a book
that always falls open
to my favorite lines—
this memory of your crooked smile,
your open hand
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged memory, poem, poetry | 3 Comments
What if you ended with, “…your crooked smile”?
But, yes, I do see the role, “your open hand,” plays.
I like these types of metaphors you do (and do well). How a specific quality of a beloved is like…. Or how love itself is like…
Hmmm yes, I see how it could end there, for sure though my ear longs for another beat
Xo r
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From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Tuesday, March 28, 2017 at 9:27 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “One Return”
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Yes. It can leave you hanging, ending the poem that one line earlier.
And, I think, “..my favorite lines” _is_ echoed better by, “your open hand”.