David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

The White Ship (41)


(41) The Balcony


She moves about the planter pots
The shadowed dark forget-me-nots,
White lilies and wild eglantine
Cannot conceal, she said she’s mine.

Her sandals brush the red brick tiles
My face must wear a foolish smile
She tells me that I shouldn’t gloat,
A pouting voice, far- off, remote.

Submitted: Saturday, April 13, 2013
Edited: Friday, October 04, 2013

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