The Picnic
a quiet bell tolls from someplace far enough to make it so
carried
by the same delicate current of air
that wafts a perfect mixture
of her sun-warmed perfume
with the runaway scent of a distant thunder cloud
across
a
yearning
yellow
blanket
to an overwhelmed smile
that trembles at the effort
of distinguishing
which is more consuming
Copyright © Gerry Mattia | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment