APPOINTMENT WITH TIME
I’m surprised
as my eyelids capture color iridescent
on a crinkled canvas no longer smooth
and the hand holding the shadow brush
is my grandmother’s, not my own.
I was surprised yesterday
and I’ll be surprised tomorrow
for in my heart I’m eighteen
and barefoot in a field of
Queen Anne’s lace.
3 comments:
Oh Julie - This poem is exquisite - thank you for your comments on mine and please repost this poem elsewhere... it deserves a great deal more attention. The sentiments so authentically essentially existentially human. Maybe copy the link and put it in the Poets United Sunday Pantry?
Julie - A gentle suggestion that was made to me a while back... if you turn off your "capture" (if that doesn't make you feel too uncomfortable) you will get more comments - many people are just too annoyed with capture codes to leave a comment. Just passing along some advice given to me long ago...
I have no idea what a capture is but I'll look it up! Lol! Thanks for the advice, but especially for your sweet, sweet words of encouragement. :-)
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