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Open Poetry #47
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Tomer
Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168
Michigan

0 posted 2011-10-24 11:20 PM



Her hair told stories that I had never had seen
the way her skin could leave such solace
in the way the sun raised down upon her

She was between the long corn, blue sky
and the draft that followed
from the sea through the canary streets of Iona

Her eyes like fire not untold by the wooden souls of the forest
Showcased in the light
To the light side of my right eye

Sitting along,
stories of the forgotten and scorned
Her hair told stories
the sun resting down on her

© Copyright 2011 Tomer Fried - All Rights Reserved
easy1
Senior Member
since 2010-05-22
Posts 1209
Southeastern USA
1 posted 2011-10-26 02:59 PM


Haunting and brilliant, right down to the malapropisms. Plus, IOU for making me Google "Iona Canary"...

From the diffused light of December blinks on a Tannenbaum. Shazam!

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