Strands of Turquoise
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
The Price
He didn't want to go.
Her face,
a ghost's shadow
in the windowpane
pouring grief
through the rain . . .
Should he remain?
One last look --
his eyes ached --
or did they burn?
Was fidelity really
too much
to learn?
1 comment:
Sherri
said...
I love the stories your poems tell.
October 15, 2012 at 8:40 PM
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
1 comment:
I love the stories your poems tell.
Post a Comment