Poem – On Sunday Morning


On Sunday Morning

– William J. Gibson –

 

I knew a song once about crocodiles

You used to hum it on your bike

 

When you were ten and told me

about it one morning in bed

 

Your eyes were blue and I tried

to see you as a little girl who cried

 

But all I saw was the hot burn of your lips

the tossed gold of your hair

and the black ice

under your eyelashes

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Author: William J. Gibson

62 year old - writer/photographer Canadian, survived open heart surgery, received kidney transplant, sometimes dour, sometimes amusing, over six feet in height, severely follicle challemged

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