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What It Was
by Fanoula Sevastos
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It wasn't so much the harshness
of the breeze, the way it scattered
the flowers in your hair,
violet petals staining the walk
along the riverside. Nor your
perfume, the way it trailed
your dress, mingled with the scent
of murky waters. Or even your lips,
how they folded, hid
inside your mouth, each time
I said your name.
It was your eyes, stone-grey
in strokes of sunlight,
the way they harbored the chill
of the breeze
and your perfume
and the touch of your hand.
Copyright © 1999
Fanoula Sevastos
All Rights Reserved |
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| Fanoula Sevastos is a public relations specialist and freelance
writer residing in Cleveland, Ohio. Her poetry and prose has appeared in numerous publications including
Eclectica Magazine, Moondance, Slumgullion. Compass Rose Review,
and Disclosures. |
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