Tomorrow
She touched the sky - felt a lingering sigh
shy away; like a nomadic moon
In a book of notes, she stumbles on casual
words; truth penetrates her, slices like a blade,
tongue tied threads. The moon sighs
and hides behind the clouds - moments slip,
like tides, quietly away.
Salt burns a flurry of stars in dilated eyes
where no fire wall could protect her from
the unlit face of tomorrow
Deborah Russell, © 2000
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