…..
white dust from a vase
of Queen Ann’s Lace
settles on a table
upon the golden oak
in spots as dark as sable,
in sunlight soaked,
in moonlight’s grace
drenched in secondhand love,
in platinum, in shadow
where everything begins,
from where it’s spun
to where it spins
and goes
.
Jim Culleny 7/16/12
Blink 