she was a child of the light,
with freckles of dustmites.
and though just the size of the slip
from between two window blinds,
she still filled dark rooms
in the retinas long after her time.
Poetic fragments daily. What’s that? Click here.
I’m thinking about adding to my resolution that I revise (just one draft further) my favorite poem from each month’s time. But which to choose? Best so far from January in my opinion is here.