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Roberta Joan Anderson and the vapour trail
a new poem by Dave Young
You lived for language,
not pressed flowers inside scented pages.
the limb of the cherry blossom tree,
your window on the world.
Reckless brazen in the play of your changing traffic lights.
A vapour trail beautiful and true, suddenly,
without warning, swallowed by the sky.
An artist derailed by circumstance,
and i’m left with an aching why,
and my head above the beach tar
staring at the incoming tide.
To READ the full poem and leave a comment go to http://www.daveyoungpoet.wordpress.com and CLICK on YellowFlower Part 2