Wednesday, April 7, 2010


Sometimes I lay my head on your shoulder
Blurred with dust and dew
To catch the scent of a day in my memory
A summer night in June
But somehow the curtain of purple twilight
And the moss beneath my cheek
Simply cannot muster quite
The day of which I speak

All rights Reserved
Janet Martin

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Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!