I hold this intimation close

So close it’s kept well hidden

Or if not hidden unlikely to be found

A thought that very likely isn’t

But might be

Just a conspiracy of suppositions

Fantasies of transgressions

Unrealized but never unthought

Thoughts to hold

Silently smiling

At unrealized perfection

Fingertips playing contrapuntally

Independent melodies played together

In the midnight light of a held thought

Tracing maybes in the dark

Intertwined fantasies wait patiently




David Trudel  ©  2013








Filed under Poetry

2 responses to “Intimation

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