Brushes 13

carla m. wilson

A Tiny Love Poem


 He said it was like


The red ache of them

Spread across by wind

En masse

Illuminated sunfields and

We could never hope

To own

Such purity


(from my April 3rd, 2012 Poem-A-Day archives)


This entry was published on 04.24.16 at 9:48 am. It’s filed under art, creative writing, journal entry, poetry, prose poetry, writing and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.


Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: