- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Brush
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She lets me brush her hair sometimes
Says her dad used to do it
He's been dead for ten years now
The brush slides through
Sand colored, silk thread
Like rain down a window
She can't remember the song
He used to sing
Before she was too old
To let her father baby her
Pale yellow
Light paints
Turning sand into gold
She closes her eyes
She isn't with me
She’s with daddy
Falling asleep to a lullaby
And a soft brush through her hair
- COMMENTS
WickedEveover 19 years agoThis part is wonderful:
The brush slides through
Sand colored, silk thread
Like rain down a window
*no thermometer rating
annaswirlsover 19 years agothis was a lovely read
~anna who does not use the thermometer for ratings
Tathagataover 19 years agothe title..though I usually give things a harmless title..I think it springs the intensity better.
Beautiful Images and a tender poem.
I like the rain on the window line myself...but it's phrased the way I write.
I think it could be more intense, richer, but i also like it the way it is.
The trick is knowing when you are done.
Thank you
