Symmetry
I never thought
that it could be:
a mark by hand
of such perfect symmetry.
I stared in awe;
my jaw dropped open.
My eyes turned off;
my brain was broken.
On paths of gold
she trod, unharmed.
Straight paths of gold.
I trod unarmed
toward gray-green grounds
of jealousy.
I lust forever
after symmetry.
Copyright © Carolyn Dewey | Year Posted 2018
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