One Winter Morning

She woke before me,

straining her brush through aurora strands,

smiling at the pale gown

reflected in the blue-green mirror.


When she stretches,

pink melon breasts exposed at the nipple

collect prism dew, drowning

in the throb of rehydrated crystal needles.


The vapors of her perfume are scentless,

senselessly caressing the rivers of her eyes

like butterfly winds—fluttering out

from east to west; an oriental song.


But the lantern burns—

by night she is radiantly departed:

she lays her head in my lap

and the mascara runs in shadows down my leg.

*Out of season by the title, I know, but I hope you’ve all enjoyed the cool touch of this one all the same…my contribution to what may well be the last, or one of the last One Shot Wednesdays at One Stop Poetry. It has been an honor and a pleasure, everyone. I look forward to visiting you all outside of the linkies though, and to continue basking in your poetry as time rolls on.


34 thoughts on “One Winter Morning

  1. This is just gorgeous–no other word for the painting you’ve done–in language and image, the third stanza especially, and the ending takes the breath away. And if this poem must take you away, it’s a high note to go off on. Thanks for everything you’ve done at one stop Chris, to challenge my writing, educate me about photography, and show me poems like this.

    • I’m going to let you in on a secret…it’s my favorite stanza too. Thank you for your continued support, Rose! Your words have ever meant a great deal to this young writer’s often weary soul.

  2. I wrote someone today that this is a heat-filled dark hole of a summer. I can relate it to winter when the sun is so hot that everything is overexposed and white is as white as a platinum print. Summer cold and the lantern burns at night. Wistful, evocative, sad. We’ll see each other around, our Chris. Best of luck in your new ventures! G.

  3. Chris, this had a mature sensitivity and depth of feeling that gripped me from the first lines and carried me through to it’s fine ending. Lovely.
    Thank you for all your efforts over the past year. You’ve been an inspiration to this fallen old news guy who you helped become a poet. Keep this blog rocking, okay?

    • I’ll do my best, Joe. It’s made easier by the support of so many wonderful people like yourself, though. All of you have been so supportive and helpful over the past year – and I’m glad you enjoyed this One Stop ending note! Not my usual style, I think…but I’m glad it turned out well.

  4. sensual, evocative, in places such delicate imagery ~ this may not be your usual style, Chris, but it is breathtaking! a lovely oasis in the midst of summer. ♥

  5. Your muses seem to have had an enchanting effect on you, Chris…
    Your words flowed so beautiful… like a stream trickling through woods… it was simply lovely!!

    Sad to see you move away from OSW… but that won’t stop me from reading your works anyway! 🙂 See you around, my awesome poetic pal!

  6. oh oh oh – i like this a lot chris – love how you capture the sensuality of a winter morning and i felt this with all my senses..this is awesome and maybe my new fav by you…

  7. The vapors of her perfume are scentless…

    That line just drew me in and took my breath away! Loved it 🙂

    Thank you for a lot of support over time through One Stop. I heard it is coming to a close in the near future, but I hope not permanently 🙂

    My One Shot ~ A Poetic World

  8. Wow Chris, this has such a poignant sensuality to it. Very visual, I could see ‘her’ in the mirror. That last line really delivers. Took my breath away this one.

  9. That was beautiful, the feeling of not wanting to depart and the pain is so well depicted.
    I so like your poetic talent, the way you play colors and nature to your advantage is highly alluring.

  10. her beauty (true beauty) creates her…she does not create her beauty…and she doesn’t even know how beautiful she is…this is such an evocative piece, on many levels, my senses stir…thank you

    the last line…fantastic!

  11. Pingback: Restless Nightmares « The Waking Den

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