The Gift
You're eyes are green
Edged with violets; But
I didn't know it
Not then
Just the flick
Of small elbows
Delicate feathers
Bones yet
Whispers under
The smooth egg
Of my skin
Butterfly child
In muffled water
You were mine
In the darkness
But never again
Edged with violets; But
I didn't know it
Not then
Just the flick
Of small elbows
Delicate feathers
Bones yet
Whispers under
The smooth egg
Of my skin
Butterfly child
In muffled water
You were mine
In the darkness
But never again
posted by Sue hardy-Dawson at 12/02/2008 08:06:00 PM
5 Comments:
A sad resonance here. Excellent poem Sue.
Simply wonderful.
Came back to read the wonderful lines:
"Bones yet
Whispers under
The smooth egg
Of my skin"...
Incredible words.
It falls like music ...I missed that for years ..being away from your blog ..hope you are well..Happy Belated New year
Nasra
Just found your blog by way of Breathing Poetry. I love this! I shall enjoy following your work. Beautiful!
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