The Looking Glass
Rearranging this board amid the stillness of the early morn; silence
Takes her hand as shifting sands; careful the brush, a thoughtful stroke..
What's the hurry she says a cup of coffee and cigarette, there's no one there ?
She closes her eyes a batch of butterflies fly by, circling waterfalls in purple skies
With golden locks their diamond crowns; silver bells, tubular clouds; we were young.
Copyright © Rachel St.Cross | Year Posted 2013
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