Diversion
Diversion
An Old Bridge
hangs by a
thread. A miller
of Dee in a
mirage singing,
his voice
trembling, the
tide below
rising. That
sandstone as red,
keen and
stubborn, waiting
for the coming of
that recipe sat
on top of the
patient
blueprint. The
droplet on its
border. Absence
of words.
Copyright © Greg Jr Torres | Year Posted 2013
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