A Living Thing Poem by Sylvia Lukeman

A Living Thing

Rating: 3.5


She fingered his gift
as though it were a living thing,
touched it gently
sentimentally
reluctant to let go.

He had held it
kept it warm
and surrendered it to her
for her to share.

He was as precious to her
as any rare gemstone
might be to a collector
of fine artifacts.

He brought freedom to her
in her confinement
in the shape of purest love.

They both shared a desparate need
to be close, embrace,
be face to face,
be one entangled.

She touched him
he held her close
and became entangled
and now she was reluctant
to let him go.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Juan Olivarez 03 January 2012

Great poem, love is a gift everyone should receive. May I ask what the confinement was, or the circumstances that brought them together?

0 3 Reply
Katherine Chandler 02 January 2012

The love within each line embraced me. Love, as it becomes a part of our very being, seems to become a living thing that we don't want to let go of. I have known these feelings all too well and your poem just reinforces my memories from those I have loved. Beautifully worded, my friend. Love in the new year, Kate

0 3 Reply
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