You see blood black
yet, I am alive
dressed in cool blue
like finest water roses

we fiddle noisy,
together a showy pit
pant of heat,
like juices –
what sin!

(Friday is magnetic poetry.  Play along.)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

6 thoughts on “Heat”

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