Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2013
The clouds threw down
three veils of rain, married the sea
made witnesses out of you and me
and later I, in the silent room
said nothing,
and sat and stared
at the bowl at the top of the dresser
thinking of her hands,  in flour, 
the regular comfort of her bread.
ceara
Written by
ceara
2.3k
     Frida Virrueta and Unnamed Poet
Please log in to view and add comments on poems