The rain and shadow of raindrops, tinsel curtain,
Refrain and shadows
Of raindrops fall.
The gone man is a thief of all to be certain:
The Fillmore, Dreamland.
He could fill them up now; his fingers fly
Like redbuds, crepe myrtle,
Whipped by the wind.
He meets his love on the little square in Balao.
An owl endowed
With tender hoots,
A tiny shiver, watches their awkwardness die.
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
copeland morris BALAO
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