the sun rose this morning
wrapped in layers of dark blanket
mysterious diaphanous shroud
soon to be replaced by an inhale of light.
this moment simple and simply forgotten.
and i wonder
pressing my face in to that small space
(sacred triangle of naked skin –
chin, to shoulder, to chest)
what of this small moment?
what of the impression of my face?
the line of my jaw, my cheek, my lips…
an exhaled breath?
forgotten in the moment,
so simply replaced.
~vscr
17.10.06
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