Sleepily, I write

January 6, 2013

 

Sleepily I write.

And as I see again the red rose glare of the lights,

a smile breaks barriers and beings dance in again.

 

 

Sleepily I write.

As Ingred sings her sonnet of chains;

the removing of such; an opening.

 

 

Sleepily I write.

As this fragile frame sleeks through darkness,

awfully drawn, to the red rose glare.

 

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