(Posting under yesterday's date)

she paints a crowd on a
smooth white canvas and you are
a black dot atop a colorless brushstroke 
in a swarm of half-dried wetness

(might the rain have pounded us 
to the ground and turned us into
wet pebbles?)

who ever thought that you might be so simple?

1 comment:

Post a Comment

in the wake of light, your words bring me more(please, do leave your fingerprints behind, so I may relish the image of our hands after you go.)