Morphing Verse

I try to write poems.

Monday, September 8, 2014

A moment's bliss

Squeeze a period, for rest,
between the chimneys and brisk
wind, that line of teal
on your cheek, the apertures
were shut but the smoke
pipe and even the Oleanders
pruned to trees glowed
upright,

if the change has in it
a clamminess, if the change
lies apart
Posted by Peripheral at 10:44 PM
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