Blue Days


She collects bottles
stacks them on the windowsill
like blue sentries overseeing
barren paddocks
where Friesians once grazed.
Stubs the roll-your-own
in the ashtray between ochrous
fingers as she talks to them,
the blue shaped ornaments,
tells them her needs
and secrets, waits
for answers.
And then
designs her own
when waiting
turns onerous.

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bywildsweetone© 5 comments/ 4283 views/ 1 favorites

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