Portico
 
Fragile porticoes of a tragic mind,
meditative, crumbling.
An empty greenhouse, devoid of all
colour.
Radiance anew, opened skylight.
Warmth from the Sun turns all things
green
Blooming dogwoods hedge now this sanctuary.
Inner courtyards protected
against statues of brass.

By Mark Burke

© 2008 Mark Burke (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: Ten Word - 10/40 Week (challenge has been closed)


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