and post notes and photos about your poem like Sheri Fresonke Harper.
You listened wrapped to the moon gauze falling from my lips
the day the wars began, assassins slipping from the shadows
to stab, along the SpinnerSails woven between the Lands of Holding
in the forgotten times where our hearts are amber-bound.
It is my fault. I wove the skein. You didn’t mean to be caught unaware.
Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2012
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