Sunday, June 3, 2012

Lilacs and Passion

Face of a doll
Feet pointed
On the petal
Of a vibrant purple
Lilac flower

There is a
Scent of spring
A hum
A monotony
It happened last year
And will again

The empty corner
In the kitchen
Where the puppy used to sleep
Her head
On her favorite dolly

The passion;
A cold water tap
In the campground
If I wait for the water
To warm
I turn stale and wrinkled
The tips of my fingers turn blue

So I must warm the water myself
I put it in a pot
Start a fire out of broken logs
And watch the water warm
And then boil
And then I bathe in the tears
I’ve poured

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