Slip on spectacles;
do not seek spectacles.
Seek slightly furrowed brows
tear drops forming in their duct
delicate veins on clover leaf
cloud wisps tinctured in palest pink
puddled reflection of toddler’s yellow boot
catsup melding into whole wheat bread
smiles of mirth ‘neath crinkled eyes.
Slip on spectacles to see the good.
In the spirit of the poem, no photo or illustration included.
Motivated by a prompt from Holly Wren Spauldings online class…a list poem.
How Adorable. At least this is my Seeing of your poem. 😎😎😎🥀🥀🥀
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Thank you!
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Your eyes certainly visually capture simple elements and your words describe them deliciously! ❤
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Beautiful random niceness.
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