Prism Poem by Amy May
Prism
She dresses in black for him,
yet inside she burns white hot.
She pours his tea into a blue mug,
and slowly falls into his green eyes.
As he stirs in the sugar with a silver spoon,
she settles back into multi-coloured comfort.
He leans closer, finally able to see,
fire is the colour of her dreams.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
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4/24/2024 3:10:07 AM # 1.0.0.1119
