Colored Pencils

I am having my own Flaubert morning
with a box of many colored pencils.
Trying to write or draw or show
desire under the pines, old love –
all in pencil, in shades of gray.




2 thoughts on “Colored Pencils

  1. Such a perfect little poem to read.
    A Flaubert morning slowly and subtlely rubbed
    And cross hatched into its own meaning.
    Why is it some old memories linger
    And remain faded in those dim shadows?


  2. Pingback: Nine Months | Writing the Day

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