11-09-2014, 09:21 PM
(11-09-2014, 07:32 AM)Wjames Wrote: Her smile sagged
the same way a crooked
painting forces you to notice it. The painting is too unique among all the mundane things in this poem for me.
I watched her relax while I ate egg salad
and mulled over the days business;
a leaf landed in her hair as she napped This works so well.. I really feel that urge to touch her hair and remove it...
on the bench beneath a nearby oak.
The air was crisp and her mouth was a kettle at tea time; Strangely, the lunchitme and tea time don´t oppose each other for me, good.
I wanted a cup. Wonderful image.
Lunchtime ended, and I was late getting back to work. Oh, the atmosphere and feelings communicated here work perfectly... this is really a poetry... I can hardly describe it in words but this poem
Thistles.
