My
mother has walked in
from
her garden;
the
arms of the tulips on her
cardigan
writhe like
black
flames against a
pink
sunset. Her eyes water,
but
there is no more smoke,
no
soot; her hands are clean.
 |
| Image credit: Emmi P |
_____________________________________________________
This is part of the small stones writing challenge
The art of paying attention
Image source: http://www.morguefile.com/
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