Sometimes it’s all they wear, 
these wayward princesses 
basking in the sun; 
not the Risky Business 
“future’s so bright” kind, 
but the way the tree slants 
just right kind, 
for leafy shadow tattoos. 

They choose the warmest 
part of day and make their me
-andered way to forest floor and 
bare themselves 
(feet first, of course) 
and feel the breeze on skin 
and the way tomorrow-hope 
might begin at any moment. 


In November, we poem.

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2 Responses to Shades 

  1. erbiage says:

    im haunted by the ghost of timbuk 3

Use your words.

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