On my fingers

whispering

still
I feel

the ghosts

of peaches’

skin
like butterfly

scales
torn

from their wing

still hoping
for the sky.
And I read

all over again,
on peaches’

skin,
the long

list of places

I wanted to go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_______________

Photo: CHATTY OWL ~ http://chattyowl.com/