Sometimes, it's a leaf on the pavement. You pick it up
and the colour's so intense you forget to breathe;
or shadow dissolving into darkness and the light
on the cusp you can't catch. Or perhaps
it's in the ripple of the sweat-soaked face of Jesus
on a tee-shirt at the bus stop by the Gresham Baptist Chapel.
Or the thread of sound from a brass bell
you can only follow so far.
Christina, I would go much more minimal:
a leaf left to dry on pavement
color so intense you forget to breathe
shadow dissolving in darkness
light you can't catch
the sweat-soaked face of Jesus
on a never ironed t
a brass bell's ring
you can only follow so far
but then that would be my poem and not yours, so forgive my play please.
Needs a title though so we know what you think it is.
Thanks.
Gary
November with Janet from Oz at: http://gardawg.homestead.com/homestead.html,
Submissions: http://www.writershood.com/index.html
Poets for Peace. ˇPoemas sí, balas no!
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