In that
space
the life breathes
beyond
unspoken exchanges
of body language -
unwritten fiction waits,
so take it,
move its tip along cracked lips,
but do not
write me -
|
between
the lines
the words
are not contaminated.
Blank page turning,
the pen, poised with fingers curled -
employ the ink to
cite me.
|
Sonia Hendy-Isaac
If you have any comments on these poems, Sonia Hendy-Isaac would be
pleased to hear from you.
|
