|Photo by Tess Kincaid for |
Magpie Tales 61
My glass of wine rests nearly empty,
asking questions as before.
One guest remains,
silent in the shadows,
to lend excuse to pour a little more.
The old reflections, in my
remnant of burgundy, slipped in,
as I looked across the years
at the flowers in your hair,
felt the rat-a-tat of far off fire,
and angels watching over me.
Posted for Tess Kincaid's Magpie Tales 61