Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2013
woke every morning and
dressed in the sun, then
dreamt in the breezeway
where the day's laundry
hung. She listened for
him in the summery hum;
sometimes she was honey,
sometimes she was stung.
Marsha Singh
Written by
Marsha Singh
Please log in to view and add comments on poems