the window is open
to the sound
of the water
sighing
the light
from the waning
moon
speaks softly
to the corner table
you left
a glass by
the kitchen sink
pale pink tracing
the line
where your lips
had been
by A.M. Clarke
July 2015 | back-issues, poetry | 0 comments
the window is open
to the sound
of the water
sighing
the light
from the waning
moon
speaks softly
to the corner table
you left
a glass by
the kitchen sink
pale pink tracing
the line
where your lips
had been
by A.M. Clarke
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