Burnham Beeches with Anna, 1985

entry picture

the sadness of sundays
persists
even amidst
the various
reds, yellows, browns and golds
of stormy autumn

and as I walk
I have in mind
the fragility of your veined
porcelain
hand

so who am I to resist
this child's
every imperative?

 

◄ The solitary rose of our breath

Nothing more ►

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