PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The rain on the cabin windows

drifts like rinse waves in a car wash.

My fingers searching minor sevenths,

my ardent gaze the portside rail,

to see Jazna leaning there.



The summer's marbled skies spread wide

our trolling laughter buffed with spray,

her listing form against the rail.

I tune to open G where all

blues and heartaches follow when.



From sacred space her spirit falls,

a surreal vision cosmos sent.

Devolved from humid heavy mist

her blue-eyed radiance beams

in quandom pose leaning there.



With sudden suck of breath to heart,

my ebbing guitar descants play

to searing pains of her demise.

I cry out with odes and tears

to see Jazna leaning there.