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Showing posts from August, 2012

Hallucinations in Pink

It was a short and steady poem
from an age 
when people wrote letters. 

Papers of dust
from the underworld
opened like woven cobwebs 
drown you
in smell 
and later, 
hallucinations.

and I see a pink doll frock
washed carefully 
and left to dry.

While I wait with my little dolly
at the kitchen door
I tell her stories of princesses 
in pink gowns.
and of our evenings, flights
of fancies. 

She had chubby cheeks
for me to kiss
and yellow curls.
so that, 
I could dream.