Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2015
Her fingertips were stained with pollen
With the vase I bought her with freshly cut
Flowers tainted with prints of butter yellow.
A pinafore wrapped with ribbon around her small waist
a chaste smile fashioning her face for the neighbours of our place.
one look at her and I see a fingersmiths daughter.
a girl who outgrew this ***, this house, this girl the porter.
OliviaAutumn
Written by
OliviaAutumn
451
   Mike Essig
Please log in to view and add comments on poems