Poetry

topazpurple

Poetry

I love the bare wire of an

old-fashioned clothesline–-with a few

sun-bleached, weathered, wooden

pins dangling upside down. A golden

cord draped at one end and

next to it, the frayed shred of

a wind beaten, silk, purple scarf

flapping in the breeze.

-Bonnie Saul Wilks, August 2007


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