Poetry Clear Blue Sky

Clear Blue Sky

 

Today as I was walking in a field, alone, a single white rose petal fell from a clear blue sky.

As I watched, it fell, it seemed, with purpose.

Gently it drew to me, softly caressing my forehead,

Touching my cheek,

Brushing my lips

With such a tender, subtle stroke,

Tracing my neck

Down, down, down, down

Overwhelming me with intimacy.

Finally, it lingered for a moment, slowly intertwining with my fingers.

Like a hummingbird and a flower sharing their last embrace, sharing a heartbeat of mutual understanding,

And then it left, carried by a new breeze far, far, away.

 

I told my friend about the white rose petal, how it came to me from a clear blue sky.  He said he didn’t believe in fate.  The rose petal probably came from a field nearby, or more likely, it was my imagination.  He’s probably right.  Everybody knows white rose petals don’t fall out of a clear blue sky.  He probably thinks I’m a little off today.

 

But I know a single white rose petal fell from a clear blue sky today, as I was walking in a field, alone.

I know because when I close my eyes I can still feel it

Softly caressing my forehead,

Touching my cheek,

Brushing my lips

Tracing my neck

Down, down, down,

Overwhelming me.

Ben Tomkins
Ben Tomkins is a violinist, teacher, journalist and critically acclaimed composer currently living in Denver, Colorado. He hates stupidity and generally believes that the volume of one’s voice is inversely proportional to one’s knowledge of an issue. Reach Ben Tomkins at BenTomkins@DaytonCityPaper.com.

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