The Flash of a Despondent Domestic
Monday, November 17, 2008Labels: flower, voice, winter
A frozen blossom
fell into my open hand,
it shattered in two.
I picked up a piece,
examining it closely
under a flat, dull sky.
It brought you to mind,
that one day under the train
when we were younger.
You just shook your head
when all I really wanted
was your open hand.
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