She walks on a tightrope to the sun
and falls in wonderment,
the uncorrupted flight of
fancy; fed to the demons
of a fresh chapter…
Copyright © 2014 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)
Tag: prose
The Parcel
I believe people are like parcels.
They start off nicely wrapped and taped
stamped with fresh ink;
destination marked in black biro.
Some are dropped from the van
others get crushed
as they leave the sorting office.
Scuffed on the floor
kicked and dented as their tape unravels;
words smudged
lying in a pool of rainwater.
Some don’t reach their destination
and countless are lost in transit.
The parcel that arrives at the end of its journey
is stronger;
branded with battle scars.
Copyright © 2014 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)
Clarity
Her face was like Athens.
It was Rome, Alexandria, London.
It was the changing seasons, flashing amber, scarlet;
the colour of the sun.
Fluttering;
like the moth eaten pages of a journal
faded, yellowed; long exposed,
yearning for clarity.
Copyright © 2014 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)
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