Friday, May 26, 2017

Was


She cringes. They knew.

Didn’t say, wouldn’t change
nothing, anything
help or hurt

They wait, mercy resides
patience, temperance,
in these, out there
touch and feel
lost and found
not looking, not seeing,
not needing, not wanting
more than, merely
her presence, her past
come back…

Painting By Félicie Schneider (1831 - 1888) (Sotheby's New York, 29 January 2010, lot 867) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Labels: , , , , ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Feather weather

Before I arose the tangerine sunrise squeezed its citrus air through my bedroom window dripping fresh pulpy nectar  of a new day onto the co...

  • Tres (trace)
    Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...
  • The Creative Process by e.e. cummings 1 and 2 (plus 5)
                         1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
  • Olive to Fly
    The ship sailed West on Sunday The wind was too wild on Wednesday Our arrow plane rips the paper sky, severing space for itself, i...