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memory; how we began
by Sophia Gracewe stood between the elevator doors,
his hands on my hips and mine in his hair
and i felt the push of metal against my spine
but we didn't move because his lips were soft
and so were mine. 10/18/2008 Posted on 10/18/2008
Copyright © 2025 Sophia Grace
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Shirin Swift on 10/19/08 at 12:18 AM lovely snippet |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 10/19/08 at 03:05 AM Sounds good to me. I hope it is working out OK! Nice write. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/19/08 at 03:22 AM I like this scene ... the elevator being a vehicle of various directions, not to mention the door. This creates a lovely pause. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 10/19/08 at 03:59 AM Sounds like a lovely tea party. Well captured. |
| Posted by Matthew Sharp on 04/08/11 at 08:21 AM Sweet:) Vivid, encapsulating rhyme...
paints a cool picture/scene in my mind. awesome. |
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