Eyes and skies a fuzzy crystal blue.
A sunlit shouldered sensation
and smirking hips and lips
without vibration
a scorched summer driveway in heat
all to my bare feet,
not a single regret.
just fingers-full of rings
and things and cigarette.
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Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
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Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
Poets United Contributor
Beautiful small stone. Love the "scorched summer driveway" description.
ReplyDeletethanks Judith! :)
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this read a lot. I can't seem to find the word to describe it but it surely touched me, thank you :)
ReplyDeletehave fun at the rally!
http://lynnaima.wordpress.com/2011/05/21/in-the-land-of-pretense/
thank you! :)
ReplyDelete