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