Morning Dew
Submitted by L.Merritt on January 7, 2008 - 00:45.
Morning Dew
By Elizabeth Merritt
Champlain Valley Union High School, Grade 11
she sat there,
woozy,
like someone had pulled the plug in her feet
and drained her out.
she watched the river,
lazy ripples that once in a while
broke along the surface.
still as a fence post,
just the rain-cleaned wood
and the rising light.
playing the cello like something had died,
as if the music had rushed into her pores.
a perfect hum,
high-pitched and swollen.
her stories still pulled soft around our shoulders.
now and then,
they came back from a place they had never been.
she wanted to know what happened when
two people felt it-
heat would make a person do strange things.
fascinating
Really liked this. Liked the imagery, the pictures created in my own mind with your words. I confess; I wasn't sure what it all meant. But that's the beauty of poetry, I guess.
My only thoughts for improvement might be that I would think music would rush OUT of her pores. And, of course, nitwits like me would love to have a few more clues on what's going on....
Wonderful piece of writing. Thanks for sharing.
geoff gevalt
ywp editor