Poem: Souvenir

Souvenir

He was holding that breath,
saving it for later.  He
knew it would not keep,
but he wanted it
as a memento,
hoped he could taste
again the air
of that afternoon
just before
it began to rain.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Writer's Notebook, Day Two-Hundred-And-Fifty

A Writer's Notebook, Day Three-Hundred-And-Sixty-Five

Le Guin, Steering The Craft, Chapter Five: Adjectives and Adverbs (Exercise Five, Chastity)