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Tue 14 Dec, 2004 09:12 pm
Of north blown off course.
The slivers of remaining ice
That cling to the tongue
Of words not said
But felt.
No spring thaw can force
The ice cycles where she combed
Her hair and wrung
The last of frigid water
On the chair
Where knelt
A child
Self styled
Gone forever
In the rills of vendetta.
Goodnight.
From Letty with love.
I would like to add that this poem was inspired by KellyVinal whose life is a testament to all that is good and selfless in the world.
We Stopped at Perfect Days
We stopped at perfect days
and got out of the car.
The wind glanced at her hair.
It was as simple as that.
I turned to say something--
Richard Brautigan
Wonderful poem, Letty. Thank you for your own selfless commentary :-)
Dys, I love the phrase, "The wind glanced at her hair"..........
Kelly, as Bo would say, "We're all in it together."
Good morning, all.
Thanks, Mr. Injustice Odd, your moniker reminds me of other types of injustices.
Sorry, but my computer was acting up as well as my ISP
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