Sunday, January 17, 2010


As she nears sleep
she likes the way
details rush past
securing only the heart
of the matter.

She likes the way his ribs
curve up into graceful
cathedral arches,
whereas hers sweep down
and around like two k's
face to face - the way
kids draw curtains at windows.

Her fingers fall to patterns
of dreams, tracing the day away
in fantastic landscapes
and broken poems.

She likes the way sleep
lights the colours of her dreams
bright against darkness.


Blogger Chris Never said...

fantastic landscapes and broken poems, how very real this is to me...

12:51 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

hiya, lovely to see you back!

10:28 PM  

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