Velvet Glass
His skin was pale peach translucence to my closed eye touch
like brushing my fingertips along a pane of warmed antique glass
or the surface of a late summer pond
we flowed over the valleys of each other ...down the estuaries
across the plains
covering the mystical landscape with shimmering crystal white velvet
and leaving tracks of light behind
Copyright © Ingrid Showalter Swift | Year Posted 2017
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