Poem by Winston Plowes

Erasing

Has she opened the door?
Has she picked up her clothes?
Will she be there in the morning?

Her whispers still staining the pillow
The shadows brushed off the blue duvet

She was so much like the purr of the cat
The heat within red sandstone walls
The clarity of split second timing
The lost song that comes back to mind
The indescribable colour between red and blue
She was so much like soft silence of rubbing out pencil
The automatic arrangement of horses’ legs
The head explosions of popping ears
The resilience of February snow
So much like the wind that bends around you
The first sound ever made by an instrument
The voices heard through Beaujolais wine

The shadows brushed off the blue duvet
Her whispers still staining the pillow

Will she be there in the morning?
Has she picked up her clothes?
Has she opened the door?

In the summer Winston Plowes is a hare chasing bicycles and winning by miles. In winter he categorizes found jigsaw pieces and tunes his cutlery. Each night he waits with his cat under starlight for his found poems to return to roost from the pages of journals published worldwide to his floating home in Calderdale UK.

Su Red is an artist of various mediums, currently residing in the NYC area. You can see more of her work here.