The Nile
It seems my eyes are rivers, endless
and sun swept. Here - impossibly pure
and banked by sand,
is haven.
Limbs float, tentatively tied to
trunks deserted to new generations.
Half hidden, I am
the crocodile.
Yet, in the sifted silt
submerged, I am painted
a disarming shade of jade.
Poetry
disarming shade of jade...
ReplyDeleteniiiiiiiiiiiiiice.
Thanks Berry :)
ReplyDeleteHi Erin,
ReplyDeleteThanks for visiting my blog. I was skimming through your poems, looking for a line that'd surprise me and I found one!
"I am painted/a disarming shade of jade."
That's hot. I have no idea what your voice sounds like, but I'll listen to someone who says things like that.