POETRY BOOK THREE: Your Writing Hand
Captured Stars

Captured stars,
In my mirror on my wall,
Hot burning gases
From far away look small.

I can touch you,
You’re entranced,
Shake the mirror,
Make you dance,
Reach for you and
Take a chance…

The glass is hard,
Your image jarred.

Connect the dots astrology,
Outline of the sylph for me;
After midnight I can see you,
But the morning sun will free you.

|| My Poetry ||