
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
If a hollowing sorrow
Catches your breath in a
Hold
And then folds
Like a snail
Into what can’t
Be told …
Let the richness
Of you
Spread like gold
From a long ago story
Foretold,
Like the waves’
Gentle touch
On a morning’s
Threshold.
For dVerse’s quadrille challenge: Rich






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