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Open Poetry #41
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Winter Lunch
| Open Poetry #41 |
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Winter Lunch |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
The bells that frailed Their tips around her hand Like a ball milked with gold. A snow of memory, With a blink of steel, As real as the petals That run with their spine Upon the misty, green land. She never leaned, Always sailed, Walked the peril land Like a pin that kneels To a palm of silk. This month she’ll wake, Wait with one foot sealed While the other peak Around the naps of distance That await the days light. Her naked life, Like leaves that steal The winds candor. |
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| © Copyright 2007 Tomer Fried - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Margherita Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236Eternity |
Her naked life, Like leaves that steal The wind's candor. Truly captivating! Love, Margherita |
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Earth Angel Member Empyrean
since 2002-08-27
Posts 40215Realms of Light |
The following lines, I found especially appealing: "She never leaned, Always sailed," Words to live by!   EA |
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WindWalker Senior Member
since 2001-10-12
Posts 1218 |
I really like this one!!!!!!! |
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