Wednesday 16 June 2010

Washing Line Poetry




The Sky is just waking.

Icy sunlight eclipses powder blue.

Dew glints from green.

An emerald garden, a mine of jewels.

A sparkling world.

And a row of clothes outline the shapes of those I love.

Those dear to my heart.

Stains washed away with the love of my own two hands given away to the wind.

To be gently dried anew by creation.

The soft whispering breeze.

The smile of the sun.


3 comments:

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