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By Stephen Date: 2003 Nov 23 Comment on this Work [[2003.11.23.08.32.31054]] |
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In her late father's hands and to her grace to whom few knew lucky are they, who enrapture her taste the art of her palate the embellishment of two In her late father's hands wistfully passing high up like clouds and leaf-mixed skies chill-filled evenings bring in love on cue the statue of her father herself infinitely yonder the face of his saint now tempered... snapdragons' bloom perhaps it's the Russian stubborn and fiery yet ultimately caring father to daughter ripe with auburn her blood is so red too In her late father's hands I'd wish I'd had the honor to soak in grace a little longer but wishing so is for losing so as fate already knows what may ado |