Friday, March 28, 2008

She falls like the last step
Every single time

A raindrop tumbling from heaven
Carved and shaped by knives of air
To shatter where the earth and sky
Make a line.

No comments:

How do I lose myself?

I am not easily misplaced Or forgotten, Arriving as I do Before even the curtains draw And that first morning jug boils, Bleary, yes Grudgin...