Gifts Poem by Scott J. Shepard

Gifts



The uproar,
changed in time
to drops of falling
secrets,
contoured in her eyes.

Is it a gift?
She said.

Placed in her hands,
everything she ever wanted,
she sited them
with wishes.

Taut the wind,
pressed concerns,
backed upon my lips and hush.

Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: secrets
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