Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Hills

Across the polished black stones,

sparkling

like lost stars

in your crescent moon eyes

water pours

in ancient streams

pulsing like

veins squeezed too tight

hands release

and the blood flows again

towards the clouds

settled in the painted hills.

1 comment:

  1. Wow!! An amazing use of artistic words that create images so captivating.

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