what you whispered in
my ear, hot as summer, you
don't say in public
what you wrote on the
misted night-bus window shocked
my finer instincts
what you sent me in
that e-mail burned my heart with
its unjust flaming
what you whispered in
my ear, hot as summer, you
don't say in public
what you wrote on the
misted night-bus window shocked
my finer instincts
what you sent me in
that e-mail burned my heart with
its unjust flaming
Comments
threeleafshamrock | March 29, 2009 - 08:53
Very, very good; as in Dynamaso's 'Too Much Detail', short, sharp; the whole canvas covered with very little waste of paint! Nice one!
Chris
Dynamaso | March 29, 2009 - 09:17
Excellent poem, this. As Chris said, "short, sharp" and not a word wasted.
Silver Spun Sand | March 29, 2009 - 15:43
Well done, Ewan. I like a man of few words;-)
Tina
lenchenelf | March 29, 2009 - 15:54
Small, but exquisitely formed :-) atb L