Looking like feathers that fell from doves,
In the doorway,
Your hair soaked from the rain,
Eyes peering from beneath,
Pools of heartbreak yearning,
A pair to dance the waltz of ghosts,
Balls of grief in your arms
I beckon you in.

Post Tagged with ,

3 Responsesso far.

  1. peterlebaige peterlebaige says:

    Arresting, the rain, the damp hair like feathers! The ‘balls of grief’ to spill and roll.

  2. john keast john keast says:

    Sommer has it in one: short, sweet, sublime

Leave a Reply