A Poem
The hot sun melts like wax over blue window panes.
As the day goes on, the honeyed light cools, hardens, and becomes tangible.
It feels like a memory in my hand--
bright, but forgettable.
The hot sun melts like wax over blue window panes.
As the day goes on, the honeyed light cools, hardens, and becomes tangible.
It feels like a memory in my hand--
bright, but forgettable.