Fiction, Poetry and Havering

Oneiri co.ii

Monday, March 17th, 2014

Oneiri co.ii


I could not cry,

so you cried for me.

Each slow drop glistened

with forgotten memories

then fell on the withered clay

turning it into gold-veined porcelain

that glowed from within.

I turned and kissed

the crinkles

around your wet eyes.



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