Lara
If only this was the poem Yuri Zhivago
stayed up all night writing,
wolves howling, at Varykino.
The ice on the window would be melting
slightly from the candle that lit the way
and pondered the artistic strokes,
mused by our love, asleep in the Russian cold.
There would be Lara’s theme,
as well as an overture and intermission.
The world around our hidden estate
would be crumbling as we made love.
The words would be written with quill and ink
on paper conveniently in the drawer
of a desk fit for the Czar.
If this were that poem, Julie Christie
would slide out from under a huge fur blanket,
wrap my overcoat around her nightgown
and read those words we’ll never know,
raise her hand slightly in awe and with a look
of total comprehension and compassion utter
No…. it’s not me, it’s you.
Craig Kirchner loves storytelling. He has been nominated for the Pushcart three times, and has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels. After a hiatus he’s been published in Chiron Review, The Main Street Rag, Zoetic, The Wise Owl, Unbroken, and about eight dozen other journals and magazines.