"whirrled" poems
Twice she came and twice she went,
Each time with less a grasp of reality.
Arms spread wide,
Head thrown back,
Her dress whirrled silver as she spun.
Fast, like a clock.
Turning back years in minutes.
A spindle unwraveling threads of silk.
When she stopped she never stumbled,
Only swayed.
The wandered away,
In wistful delirium.
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 7:27 PM UTC