Snow
M
Mark Heathcote
0
Altın Yaprak
There it is. Kids, blanket white
crisp as salt; on the blade of a stainless-steel knife.
Fresh-as-a-daisy lit, by the morning sun-
Melting like a honeycomb,
over a world that's just newly begun.
(In-the-kneading-of a steady grip, just-throw-it.)
Knead it, kids, till the evening's dark; throw it
…throw it at the passing cars, the stars
and see if it won't stick.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş