Thursday, June 08, 2006


The whispery light hangs
On her shoulder,
Barely visible.

Alabaster sheen
Lives in the hollow
Of a collarbone,

Beaming a paleness
That attracts honey bees,
Imagining that something

Worldly could be so sweet.
The restfulness
Of her chin,

Leading up to lips
At a word's edge
Toward a restrained sentiment,

Hinting what the eyes
Might be saying,
Leaving Mona Lisa's smile
Much to be desired.

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