She sits in her own world, alone on the brink,
held aloft by a dove feather, will.
Satin wraps a form that bellies inner strength.
For being alone demands unimaginable skill.
Her passion's unadmired, leaving dust in the air,
If only for a moment, there was someone else there.
Her beauty deserves more than darkness' kiss;
An unfettered heart laid bare.
Born in Fountain Inn, SC on Sept. 29, 1965, Frank
Blakely started artistic endeavors at the age of 4
when his mom made him draw a rose. He has been a
photographer, painter, author and poet; baker,
police officer,waiter and marketing director.
He lives now in Dallas, Tx, looking for the
love of his life.
1 comment:
Absolutely amazing - your writing - and also the fact that I just finished a writing about a dove's wings. I so understand what you are saying. Thank you.
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