If we closed our eyes
and clasped our hands,
tightly but tenderly,
just so,
I imagine we would be whisked away
in a whirl of color and light and flying or falling.
Time would rush madly to a standstill,
and we would come to know the mysteries
that puzzle philosophers and propel poets.
Of course, rain would still be rain,
and inevitable evenings stuck in traffic
would continue like clockwork,
each minute dragging its feet.
But every so often, there would be
a sweet reminder of all we had seen,
the windshield blurring, just so, with rain
and the light from the streetlamps
reaching through the dark toward us
and pulling us along on our way home.
Yes, Claire, yes.
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I was going to post a smiley face, but the ones on here look creepy. Nonetheless, I am smiling.
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This is a very good poem, one of your best. The last three lines take it from the occasional to the universal. Keep it up.
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Curiously, the last three lines are in reference to my experience of riding in a car late at night. Ever since I was very little, I have perceived the beams from the street lights on the road as pulling the car forward. Funny how a very personal experience can be, as you put it, universal.
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