Tuesday, June 30, 2009

By a Picture

For years now
I have known you by a picture which
your hands had painfully approved:
head-cover
over coal black anemone,
sad, young and milky white
chador or skin – the same,
to which picture I added in my mind
the voices of the silent sea that best adorn
your lovely lonely face
smiling from the distant shore
I-wish-you-were-here.
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The White Gloves

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