How She Prays
September 18th, 2011 § 1 Comment
Orange skies and Lemoncello.
So clings the last vestige of day.
She’s supine, captured in yellow.
Cherry red lips parted.
Cloudless, open are the heavens,
Ear cocked to hear her prayer.
She’s wordless, emptied even,
Her contrition halted.
Tell her heaven hears her speaking,
No matter how quiet the sound.
Catch her before she’s weeping.
So the seeds are planted.
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I would like to leave a comment worthy of this poem, but for simplicity I will just tell you that I absolutely love it. The title and first two lines (specifically the word lemoncello) caught my attention, but I fell more in love with it as I read. I think I have read it 10 times already.