The black blots on white cards,
each one a new world of expression
followed by a monotone,
“So…
What do YOU see
in this one?”
I iiiiiiiiiiii stare, studying
a girl walking though
falling cherry blossoms.
Her shadow r
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiu
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig,
splotching the iridescent scene
with watery looks and pasted smiles,
as dyed-blue roses and baby’s breath
clip back ringlets. Her uneasy breathing
caught in the ribbon trailing off
a white, spring dress while bare feet bleed
from the orchard floor’s splinters.
A late thought topples her back;
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiihe
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiileft
me.
The flash cards stop animating
my mind's movie, so my lips part
in a sigh as my sight drifts out to the windows.
“I see
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiinothing.”
View User's Journal
|
"A writer writes not because he is educated but because he is driven by the need to communicate. Behind the need to communicate is the need to share. Behind the need to share is the need to be understood. The writer wants to be understood much more than he wants to be respected or praised or even loved. And that perhaps, is what makes him different from others."
Leo C. Rosten
Leo C. Rosten