|
Poetry
Literary
|
I could not picture you
in the box they gave you,
hemmed in, silent and unmoving
while we stood in domino rows
waiting to topple.
Stinging eyes turned upwards,
startled by the movement
- light as blossoms, bright as morning -
borne upon, not feathered angel wings,
but a myriad of colours,
like your smile.
|
|
|
Copyright 2007, R. F. Long. All rights reserved.
Illustration: "Ushering" by R. F. Long
Copyright 2007, R.F. Long. All rights reserved.
|
|
|
