Saturday, February 18, 2012

Response to a Prompt

Oh, thou Rose red hue of the velvet grape,
the blush of ice or dusting of must upon the skin
  The drop that quivers upon the lip of life's edge
about to pour out. 

Into a glass?
Into a bowl? 

Onto dusty ground and wasted?

I look up not down and I do not know.

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