Sometimes, I write poems.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Might be the way the shoreline moves.
A grey ball tugging the ocean nearer.
Something to do with the candle lit
while a planet flies through nothing.
The dolphin smiling. Does a swan
preen its feathers to look prettier?
A monarch returns to this very tree
as the worst disasters fall from the sky.
Might be all of these things keeping us
alive as my lips on yours, set the sun.
c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010
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