His pupils, the size of a dot on a gem's drop inside a teaspoon full of sugar.
Her lips, red and fresh, unveiling and fluctuating like silhouettes of lovers' dance.
Unspoken words that can only be read as musical notes for the heart to be played,
and for the sigh to be sung.
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Author:
camilla (
Offline) - Published: March 5th, 2011 23:54
- Comment from author about the poem: I wrote this poem to all children that ask the question: how was I borne?
- Category: Children
- Views: 42
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Emi
Offline)
Comments1
La, dee dah. But such an answer is too much for the little ones to comprehend or face.
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