A curl of grey smoke
around drops of pure blue
and the flesh and red wine
beating flashes of you.
Cotton and flannel
cologne and cold air
whispers of promise
gentle hands in my hair.
The closer to perfect
the more tragic the flaw
now forget about worries
-I am breathless with awe.
Copyright 2003 Liz Kramer
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/2281/22543 on Thursday September 04th, 2008 11:35 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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