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Promise
Cup empty of tea,
mind bereft of inspiration,
wind shuffling through the
new leaves of the plum tree,
branches bouncing in the sun with
spring afternoon promise.
He turns to touch her hand,
the one resting on the keyboard
waiting for the words
of her latest poem
to reach her fingers.
5 comments:
wHEW...THANK GOODNESS! WB
I especially loved the first line and the wind through the plum tree too.
Cheers
Glenn
Thank you :) gosh when the muse goes, she goes!
I like the imagery, but I'm not sure I follow.
Nice imagery s.o.m. for those times when there is nothing in the trees besides the birds and the breeze
I felt this the whole way through. Excellent.
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