Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2013
the sun made white
slivers on the wood
table and the trees
behind the shades
shivered a little
which made the water
break its reflection across
my fingers. I saw him there
knelt on the abbey floor with
a hand on my knee whispering
about how much he loved me.
(c) Brooke Otto 2013
brooke
Written by
brooke
Please log in to view and add comments on poems