Bus WindowA Poem by EmmaThe freezing bus at 7:00 this morning made me think I should write a big metaphor so here it is
2 dots and a line-
curved and flicked at the end. Silly doodles of a child. 2 larger circles and a very curved line. Sillier doodles of a no longer child. A tiny inscription of names encased in a love heart. A cute message or cruel joke. The frost reveals all. Years ago and only yesterday. Hidden but preserved. It shows the fingers dragged from the top right to the bottom left. Small droplets collect, balancing on the verge of release, waiting to accumulate enough to weave down. Crossing the finger stains; carving the board for a new hand to play. You would have thought that the 'artwork' the frost is forced to mould around would reveal what lies beyond. Distinguish the dark forms and masses of colour. But the fog outside is just as thick as the frosted canvas.
© 2018 EmmaReviews
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5 Reviews Added on January 9, 2018 Last Updated on January 9, 2018 |

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