my reflection in this mirror is like the Gassan 121*,
sparkling as the sun pours into the room
and I watch drops of water roll down the glass like racehorses
kicking up the sand
until they pool at the bottom like a glassy ocean
the color of the sky on a cloudy morning
melting into the hard gray steel.
(for the first time I can see the
dust twirling in the sunset behind the trees.)
I am surrounded by bright pink flowers,
all swaying to their own music.
*I saw this diamond (shown in the image at the top) at the Gassan headquarters in Amsterdam, Holland.
(Poetry Friday roundup here.)
and I watch drops of water roll down the glass like racehorses
kicking up the sand
until they pool at the bottom like a glassy ocean
the color of the sky on a cloudy morning
melting into the hard gray steel.
(for the first time I can see the
dust twirling in the sunset behind the trees.)
I am surrounded by bright pink flowers,
all swaying to their own music.
*I saw this diamond (shown in the image at the top) at the Gassan headquarters in Amsterdam, Holland.
(Poetry Friday roundup here.)
3 comments:
oh
my
gosh.
you are a BORN POET priya, a BORN POET!!!!! keep it up!
the racehorses kicking up sand is a tremendous image, dear Priya.
Kiki- thank you very much!
Beth- I was thinking of your posts about the local horse fairs when I wrote that line :)
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