nothing would make
her laugh.
not even a smile would
cross her
terse lips.
unwrinkled
she was with emotion.
a flat
field of pale
skin.
hardly a line across
her brow,
her dimpled cheeks
around her
irish eyes, her
chin. her light was
low.
you had no chance
staying, or
visiting, of getting
in.
Monday, December 7, 2015
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment