Winsome Sliver
Occasionally
A phrase holds on
It rises and rides through the seasons
Filed away, it fills, instills, chills, simmers
Echoes of a slight suggestion
Build in the background of a quiet mind
Until the chaos writhes
And breaks through the winsome din
It was but one simple phrase
Several years left behind
A lone sliver of paper
The words still on my mind
Posted in: Passion