11 January 2011

The Plaything



She powdered her nose and set his buttons right.
She bade him goodbye from the cracked threshold where the termites sang their gnashing songs.
He had a wife who powdered his soul.
But,
She blew it off and set it free,
And yet she saw
His retreating back,
A diminishing shadow;
Never a promise of
Approaching footsteps,
A hardy knock,
Nor an open heart
Wrapped in silk or glossy paper.



6 comments:

  1. haha just a thing I hapn to do :P

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  2. Third Blog since May. I had to skip twice to find you.

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  3. I try :) thanks heh you aren't bad yourself :P you are incredible.

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  4. You and Ty have the humour power..I gotta haggle for something :p Aww love u Gnetchy :)

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  5. Ah! Dang Swets... you are too good!

    ReplyDelete
  6. You have a super poet power.

    I love...

    ReplyDelete

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