Sunday, October 17, 2010

White out

Little gray oysters sunken like stones sing to me of their bittersweet plight.
Bright mums bloom against the backdrop of autumn's booming decay.
Dizzied am I in this twilight of unspoken things, carving love into heavy armor.

As pearls bubble to the surface of a snow covered shore.

1 comment:

  1. This is so pretty to read! sounds and feels round and soft and pretty on my tongue and in my ears.