. . .

missing it terribly
the yet-to-be-tainted
print of the gullible body
kept pure centuries ago
the one that was left behind
on that first day of the first snow

© hülya n. yılmaz, 2.9.2017


Filed under Impulses, Poetry

2 responses to “. . .

  1. Ah history and recordings of what we believe to be the past, mixed with memories of what might have been imagined pure as your driven snow. A perfect setting for wishful thinking… an unliveable feeling we can’t live without. Regardless, your poetic compose says it so magnificiently. Beautiful!



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