Drenched by copper kettle puddles,
Laid to rest for December's calling;
Up and down by the force of echoed tides--
Leaning my heart on ribbon's edge;
Dangling delicately while the ripple spreads,
Around and around,
She spins to hold my hand;
On a silver spoon fairytale--
I could never eat--
For fear of drowning in your pageantry.
©Ashley Leslie 2013
