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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3469 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Cine-Projections for Romantics Vienna (Carole Barley) There is frost in these afternoon woods, paths strewn with the last of autumn’s brambles catch the unwary walker . When she turns, his hand is on her shoulder, resting lightly, like a bird, maybe a sudden shaft of sunlight. She has listened to his meanderings, fairytales shot through with passion; cobalt and violet, like Persian silk; seen his hands caress, evoke breath-heavy beat through elegant bend of wrist and half closed eyes. She would call him to her bed, magick kingfishers from the blue of his intense eyes, teach him rhythms only the enchanted and moonstruck know; leave him to ponder the next verse. It is too late in the year to gather roses. Holly and fragrant twinings of pine-fronds would be a fitting winter crown, to sit above the pale curve of brow, below windtangled, wayward mane of gold. |
