Harboring Much - Asking a Lot
short fiction and poetry
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Ice Poems
Ice cold crickets
In my lemonade
Ma'am!
Could you see to these
Crickets, please
+++
precious icy-cold refreshment.
i sense resentment,
when i ask for a refill.
+++
the water glass looked
like ice
cold in the moonlight
on the windowsill
where she'd left it
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