eyelashes dip on the open book

She is reading

will not look up

The words are printing tall tales

on the intricate lace

of her feather hazel head

Lean long wrist bangles

reach down

Turn the page

my page

She rests

then her eyes walk

A scarlet moon is rising from

the printed ink

Her ankles bracelets shake softly

This is for you to read

Robert James Berry

If you've any comments on his poem, Robert James Berry would be pleased to hear from you.