10 Jun


It is a soft, still afternoon.

It is slowly stirring from the morning’s drab dullness.

The light is becoming pale honey.

There is bird song floating in through the open window, bleating of sheep, a distant dog barking somewhere beyond the trees, horses hooves nearby.

I live in the country. Trees and hedges, narrow lanes, small ancient villages, a patchwork of fields that are home to sheep or cows or are yellow with rape, green with wheat or blue with flax.

Sometimes I feel far from the world.

It is easy to drift.

Like today.

I have practised Pilates, I have meditated, I have drunk tea, eaten lunch, and sighed at the world on the web.

I am now tapping out words which will somehow, magically, weave themselves into sentences, paragraphs, chapters, and then a book.

But still, it is easy to drift.

And to let myself think of you instead.

Wearing a simple summer dress that kisses your curves perfectly.  Your hair is free, your smile warm, your eyes laughing. Your beauty makes me sigh. And smile.

My fingers leave the keyboard.

I close my eyes and breathe you in. Across the miles. You fill my mind.

Your presence inhabits me.

There is nothing here but you.

It is a soft, still afternoon.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Vladimir Volegov


Posted by on June 10, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life


Tags: , , , , , , , ,

7 responses to “Drifting

  1. SCM

    June 10, 2021 at 1:30 pm



    Liked by 1 person

  2. SCM

    June 10, 2021 at 1:50 pm



  3. thereluctantpoet

    June 11, 2021 at 1:10 pm

    Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Leslie Meeks

    June 11, 2021 at 9:00 pm

    Love this.

    Liked by 1 person


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: