hearsay was

she once lived in a world of pigments:

vermillion, umber, azure, claret.

now without,

in toneless shadows of slate against lead sky:

a time of khaki, ecru, mushroom, and greige

endless billows of darkly steam roll into a same sky

tears, themselves, invisible in such a place

where ache of life can’t find way to periwinkle clearing

afraid of our own mirrored future, we but glimpse the


and try to look away

but we have seen her more than once

sifting through The Lovat

washing, washing near salty rivers

sluicing the colors from her cloaks

red and blue, we think

but a cape she clasps a moment longer

and leans on sandless banks of flat, motionless streams

before it slips,

tinting slate rivers

colors drift and float to whey

One comment

  1. Well, I am surely at a loss for words……  having perused your site below with your writings and thoughts.
    I shouldn’t be surprised or amazed, yet I am. I’ve always sensed your deep emotions and creativity, but never guessed all the wonders I have just read.
    This is a treasure of you and your world.
    I will have to compose myself and get back to you when I can fathom all I have been allowed to read. Sam

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