battenburg lace

there’s no emptying
my thoughts,
my words,
my endless, brilliant
failed to-do’s,

without carelessly spilling
a drop
or seven
battenburg lace
sunday afternoon
petal edged rivers run,
rise and gently stumble
over stones
and tied tongues
dripping dropping
polka dotting
splashing down
crimson

Rene ~ February/November 2011

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