Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting ~ Robert Frost

Nursing vanilla-caffeine infusion,
soft frost melting against the aga,
I watch them

sibling seed heads,
happily bent in solicitude
for their task.

In paper intricacies
patient adolescent soothes
her fervent perfectionism –

it doesn’t matter if you make mistakes sweetheart,
++++++++++++++++++++that’s what makes each one unique

As dusk gnaws at the
frayed edges of the day
I dance a solitary waltz

lacy snowflakes
strung from cobwebbed beams,

in the fractals
of their beautiful mistakes.


1 Comment

Filed under Free Verse, Poetry, Uncategorized

One response to “Shapes

  1. I’m right there with you Julie… such a familiar and heart-warming scene. You have framed it with your usual fine selection of words that sing and evoke a memory..and the attachments that go along with it. Beautiful. Leaving with a warm aga glow… 🙂

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