This is the second poem based on Vivaldi’s music. Music really can be a terrific starting point, the ideal writing prompt.
One more thing before I post the poem. Sometimes I write poems in pairs ( as here)
Does anyone do the same ? Let me know.
Rocked in the slack
water between sleep and waking,
She stretches in the bed,
brushes one soft fallen lock
from her face,
breathes lavender and musk, and sweat.
Her eyelids tremble open.
A tide of sunlight spills across one wall-
painted cherubs in a net of gold-
and soaks the carpet strewn
with rumpled stockings, petticoats and lace.
Outside, the city re-invents itself
in slapping water, footsteps,
and the wash of passing boats. She slips
from the bed, steps silently,
dressed in light, to the window
where her lover waits, whispering his passion.
Breathing in his words, she shivers.
the morning sunshine prickles on her skin.
She turns back to the room,
grabs the filmy petticoats, the brocades
gathering them around her like a cloud
and is gone with him,
her footsteps fading in the busy street.