- Mornings are long…
That is what I was about to say, to the girl
who comes to sit in front of me on the train,
poised in her imperial white dress,
mouth like a meaty flower on her small face
- Mornings are long, dearest, but come evening flowers close all the same.
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Really beautiful.
ReplyDeleteSo much evoked in that meaty flower. Does it close in death? Sleep? Rejection? The poet has given just enough to make me wonder. And in that mystery I want to come back and think about it, feel it again. We all fade ...