I can feel the chonch-shell sound of One-thirty-six AM Not down tight where my tailbone pulses the bed where you sleep, your eyes covered in cotton lilac, breathing hard with your back to me; but up here in glass head echoing like Michelangelo's chambers between air and ear, between brain and blood, rushing and whirling like the tidepools in Oregon we meant to visit but couldn't find.
From the author of Jupiter Remembered and Until It’s Time: Embracing Life In Our Later Years comes Petals of Love: Poetry of a Woman’s Soul – a heartfelt collection spanning more than thirty-five years. Through tender reflections, these poems offer g
Share
Print
Save
Follow
I like this quite interesting.
Wonderful imagery thought provoking as well.
Take care,
Gwendolyn