2011-38

I remember when
we paused, you and
I, on a cracked
sidewalk, under
the spreading
fragrance of the
old wax
myrtle.

The wind dipped
shadows of leaves
across your face,
you had on a blue
blouse, your hair
was pinned up, but
most of all, I
remember, the letter
still unopened in

your hand.



Poetry by Minhocao
Read 597 times
Written on 2011-07-28 at 20:06

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countryfog
To paraphrase William Carlos Williams - so much depends upon an unopened letter . . . who sent it, what does it say, why is it unopened . . . leaving the answers to each reader, making the poem his or her own.
2011-07-29