2010 Feb 24 - snapshot poem

there are winged women
in my garden. there are two.
no. three. they are heavy.
they are made of iron.

once they were the legs
of an antique table. now
they are poised to fly
from the garden fence.

and then there's me.

Comments

[Justin]

Is this garden the ground that let's them go? Or does the antique fable hold them here?

[Cindy]

Oh, honey, you flew away years ago!

[Gleen]

haha giggity

[Fran]

Fran said "When I am weary with illness and great age I come to your poems and am enriched.