the art and poetry of greg anka

by on Feb.05, 2012, under Syndicated from the Web

Reposted from Trixie’s Treats | Go to Original Post

a small attic window
somewhat facing south
off slightly to the right
frosted in evening darkness
softly lit from late sun yawning
cold glass in cracking white wood.

relentlessly eyes peer through
seeking, offering a question
so hopefully spoken
small cautious fingers
cupping over an open mouth
exhale into flowing lines
a warm and subtle breath
wrapped in a young skin.


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