Remember Me

10 Jul


In the moonlight we have drank many

glasses of wine and our drunkenness has

carried us to a bed of cool grass under the

Willow at the ponds edge; its limbs hang low

covering our nakedness. The scent of

wildflowers floats across our love as our

shadows dance in the moonlight. You fit perfectly

in the curve of my body; I meld with the shadows

as the night bird sings.

We do not care that youth may have passed us by,

at this time of life we have no fears; and it is from

the sweetness of our souls that we found this

happiness. Our passion cannot be stopped; we love


At this moment you are my glory, joy, a burning flame

woven into the sinew of my body and soul. This night

you have been the music in my life; remember me! The

sun rises from behind the hills warning us of a new day;

slowly we leave the softness of paradise and once again

we are strangers.



Posted by on July 10, 2015 in Poetry


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6 responses to “Remember Me

  1. reocochran

    July 10, 2015 at 3:59 am

    I loved such longing and romantic poetry, Elizabeth. You describe passion in such a sexy way. Not too long ago I wrote a poetic post about being on a balcony on a hot, balmy and stormy night. Take care and hope you have a wonderful weekend!


    • elizabeth ann johnson-murphree

      July 10, 2015 at 2:05 pm

      The idea stuck with me when I over heard someone say…”Old people should not make love, it’s gross”! Those people believe love is for the young. The birth of this poem came from that statement; and being in that category I had to defend those of use who believe that age is only a number. Great comment, I loved it. Thank you

      Liked by 1 person

  2. calensariel

    July 10, 2015 at 5:05 am

    Our passion cannot be stopped; we love generously… That’s beautiful. For a minute I thought there was someone hanging from the tree in that picture. Had to look closer! LOL


    • elizabeth ann johnson-murphree

      July 10, 2015 at 2:08 pm

      Now you have me its a limb. Now I must write a poem about two old lovers and unsatisfied…he now hangs from that Weeping Willow. No, that’s a short story. My poems most times carry a dark tone and will continue to do so; this came from my overhearing someone say “Old people should not make love, its gross”. Thus the love poem was born. Thank you have a great weekend.


  3. misskutts

    July 16, 2015 at 3:57 pm

    Intense! Beautifully written poem; spoke so well to me!


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