Monday, April 26, 2010


Timid steps drain
down bright corridors,
rustling leaves trapped
in shafts of cold light.

Tears are staid.
Comfort never gives
like bone snows
inside her.

1 comment:

Beysshoes said...

You know, Darling David, I've read this poetry many times. Is this simply a moment of imagery captured? For I'm left wondering how it is that you know me. Bey x