The fine fine
fine
wrinkle of your lips reflected
refracted
in the passing light
sight
of a carside window pane
pain
in the heat of a copper glowing
growing
like fruit after the flower dies
cries
in the narrow cave of your eyes.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 5:28 AM UTC
The fine fine
fine
wrinkle of your lips reflected
refracted
in the passing light
sight
of a carside window pane
pain
in the heat of a copper glowing
growing
like fruit after the flower dies
cries
in the narrow cave of your eyes.
Request permission to use this poem