To Serenade a Widow

Her lips like magic fingerpaint prints
on white dotted lines;
her teeth, the signature oasis of a dream
left buried in a cold plot on Sunset Avenue.

In street light she seems broken,
but what a smile.
Only held when you turn your head
[all 180 degrees]
does she look that beautiful.

Could a love letter cure the vows
sewn in gold and silver
around the second finger from the left
to the left and just above;
lay beating any hope, any prayer
that maybe he can hear her.

Though his clear deaf state is obvious,
love is blinding and she sings louder,
waiting for his echo.

But the only reply is a whimper from my lips,
a makeshift love song written for a widow
whose soft whisper was meant
for an earth bound skeleton,
yet the ears it reached were mine.

• On Wednesday, May 2, 2007, Bakkhus Unbound (1055) wrote:
  
  "left buried in a cold plot on Sunset Avenue" Just one of the many powerfully emotive moments in this beautifully crafted poem. Every breath, every line, every word... echoes (through a kind of despair) a courageous expression, realism tied in the tongues
  
  
• On Wednesday, May 2, 2007, Bakkhus Unbound (1055) wrote:
  
  ...of a majestic language. I could just say 'Simply stunning'.
  
  
• On Wednesday, May 2, 2007, Alanarchy (1483) wrote:
  
  Beautifully worded. No criticism. Well done and welcome.
  
  
• On Wednesday, May 2, 2007, Bella Butchery (947) wrote:
  
  180 degrees? i wish i could see 1 degree of a womans mind at times... but im sure you meant something else... i dig skeletal structure / makeshift love. nice to see some writing that doesnt make me want to vomit for a change, you do well kiddo.
  
  
• On Wednesday, May 2, 2007, Lolita (190) wrote:
  
  Thank you. =] I'm glad you liked it and equally as glad that it didn't make you vomit! Hehe.