A sketchbook
On her pink and blue
Comforter
She draws
An image
She cannot remember
She pictures
The sound of
A voice
Low, soft, warm
Guileless, humble
Words
She, naive
Understands
Impossibilities
She picks
A needle
From her night table
And draws
With blue
Credence
She feels
You
A pain
Ingenuous
A thought
Of truthfulness
She, child
Purely
Vestal
Arms
Given
Your frog face
Betray
Obnoxiously
Her trust
Led,
Rope on hope
To nothing
She draws,
Your face
The Sphinx
You are,
The Kuk,
Unforgettable dreams
1 comment:
I love the imagery in this post and the play on words such that some words double as the finish to one line and the start of the next. I see this moment in my mind.
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