| Báirbre held pain for long but Tension often made rivulets Happen from the left eye. Then her pale stare flared Defiance at the lights As fated lovers do when their souls are in sparks. "I dreamed of you," she sighed (surprised). "A mountain rose neighboring a river. I, a smaller one, Stayed across the water." He dithered, imbecile, Not short of words to say, Now shy of words that say— A quicksilver tongue in trammel. (January 2001) Copyright ©2002 Olivier Serrat |
| souls in sparks |
 |
 |
 |