Fingerprints

Phil Isherwood

Alone, for a moment, to think.
I watch the fine rain shivering
through the winter air, settling
as silk-white dust that changes
the light that is carried inside.

The colours negotiate their place.
Latte, Aegean Blue, Sierra Vista,
Winter Sky are careful choices as
a sequence of fingerprints upon
a chosen heart. Each has a name.

You touch a life, you remember
the light that is carried inside.

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