Tuesday, June 11, 2013


a blob of butter in a saucer
a cube of ice in a glass
a bunch of flowers
and a small heart

rays of sun through the shadows
air, with dust and pollen
small beats from the childrens' feet
all together and he kept vigil

butter was softer, ice was not there
flowers withered with petals hanging
reds were forgone and ash was in
the icy heart alone defied the summer