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.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, December 7, 2008

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Maya Angelou

Caged Bird



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