Morning unwraps the gauze of half-waking. Grey sunlight burns away the fragile weave, the final connection to the other world, the half-remembered perfection of her nameless face, the tremulous touch of our finger tips, our lips that brushed, a delicate artist's stroke...
Sketch: Vol. 47
, Article 10.
Available at: http://lib.dr.iastate.edu/sketch/vol47/iss2/10