upper image of a picture I had done in oil pastels


I throw back the shroud of tapestries
Thick stitched with barbarous thread,
hanging heavy like the echo of your words.

Almond shaped blue green orbs squint, 
As the quick slant of light  c o l l i d e

shifting my sleepy thoughts back into places meant for the living.

I am like spring,
uncurling from my hibernation.
Wanting to thrive against
The calloused curve of your green thumb.

2 responses to “Curve”

  1. Oh, I like this. Especially the part about being like spring and uncurling from hibernation.


    1. Thank you! 💝


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