Fragmented Impressions

Just about impressions and expressions

Monday, April 16, 2007

The Child By The Window

A dusty sun settles on leaves
Weighs them down
They droop
Gold droplets of melting light
Fall into her waiting hands
Warm soft light floats in her palms
She washes her eyes with them
Her eyes glisten
In the fading twilight

These lamps will ease the way
Through the tunnels of my night

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