I remember it vividly, part of my dream,
the sunrise spilled at the horizon, mixed with the indigo
of the sky, sipping through the loosely closed doors
of my eyelids. Colors whisper in silence, alive and vibrant,
sticks to my hair like a spring honey, pale-yellow and lustrous,
falling in circular silky waves to the floor, as the scissors
chew on it with a metallic, monotonous rhythm…
© 2011 by Nina K Orlovskaya
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