Tonight is a night of slips
Fingers hurried, sliding sheets under old doors
the clock ticks away as the shadows grow heavy
weights on petite shoulders
***
I only thought of a period.
***
Twilight will approach
and endings lounge in the hour before dawn
as sunbeams disperse, honey drippings
to warm the sky
blue
***
I remember you too, wingtips.
***
An exotic agate, a paperweight lifted by my hands
a soft bound book carried its shape
indents
There was a love story
It was 1970
***
It wasn’t mine to keep.
About the Creator
Michele Nampalli
This space is breath for my sensitivity. The poems come fully formed. I've known for quite some time now that my art is about receiving more than creation...its the most natural way I know to process my inner world. It started when I was 7.
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