Consoling

How are my arms for consoling you in?
Inadequate branches of our oak tree?
My whispers are a breeze not made by me,
my fingers leaves, hardly touching your skin.

We shall not meet again as I can see,
with every move I scream ‘console me too’.
Iโ€™ll never have another dear as you,
my arms have tried to be those of our tree.

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Comments on: "Consoling" (11)

  1. That was fabulous Ina, sad but fabulous.

  2. I agree with Richard. There’s melancholy in no consolation and your imagery captures this so well. The whole feeling is one of fragility.

  3. Melancholy and beautiful too Ina. And now I must get ready to go away! L&H xx

  4. Yes, relationships are like trees … all those branches, some stronger than others to go out on a limb for. ๐Ÿ™‚ XO โ™ฅ

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