Wednesday, December 29, 2010

THIRTY SEVEN : Water

When water drops fall
Perfumed words emerge from the ground
Filtering into everything.
Into the day,
Into the mind of my tired body.
Kicking dust,
Washing away from the spot
Grime burdened over weeks.

An hour of patience
With only sun as a companion
Only a stain remains
Where so lovingly
It fell for a few moments.
Water dripping from washed linen
Trying to grow roots
In the heat of summers glory.

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