[untitled]

There were storms in winter, elegant
fingers of lightning that brushed us
in the night and were
gone by morning. In their wake an honest girl
sang a song without a name and
we all heard it; we could have
learned its words, had it whispered
to our hearts.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s