An ashen stranger returns my gaze.Her eyes, the window of the soul, tell.Dull, spiritless with a deathly veiland deep blue gray circles beneath.She stares perplexed, mystified.Her hand touches her forehead.She winces in pain.She fumbles clumsily with her pills.I feel sorry for her.I turn off the brig...
-
Loved it!
Gale
Wednesday, April 16, 2008 at 10:34 PM -
Untitled Comment
Cari
Wednesday, May 07, 2008 at 11:52 PM
- Font size
- Email This
- Bookmark
- Thank you for your input
- Save
- RSS
- Report Abuse














Great poem. That line about hand on forehead...I so identify with it. But what a surprise that last line was! Loved it!
Gale