Dawn’s blue distilled
into a silent ink
in the linings of her skin,
that white, curving shore
he unfolds poem upon poem,
a sea of flowers.
Dawn’s blue distilled
into a silent ink
in the linings of her skin,
that white, curving shore
he unfolds poem upon poem,
a sea of flowers.
Love the imagery. ~Dennis
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Thanks Dennis.
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Lovely.
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Thank you.
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