In the dappled light of spring
you caught my soul,
carefully you plucked it
turning it over in the palm of your hand,
inspecting its hidden depths.
It squirmed under your spotlight
painfully stripping away at the surface
scratching the hardened veneer of shame
your nails prise it open.
Laid bare now
blinking in the meadow light
tender shoots, once lost,
stretch, carefree, self possessed
shooting wayward tendrils around your wrists.
Magpie Tale Number 262...for the other writers work go here!