B.
From across this little space
I feel the sparrow lifting
upward (small and
light
she arcs
silver brown against
flesh)
A slow dance in indigo,
taken under the last fading summer
sky.
Later I seek
the promise of kisses,
in my own (lonely)
dance, it is your name
I trill.
September 09, 2011
Something Blue
And so we set sail.
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