Still Blue Pond

The hem of mid August’s kiss
Tickles the morning ground
Tears wiped on a satin cloth while
Everything is green except the place
Where you so vibrantly stood below a
Crooked butterfly breeze before the middle of
The universe swirls around the smallest tip
Of the Northwind Grass arched over the
reflection of a child’s Face
in the stillness of the sky blue pond.
The same pond where I would stand
In the shallow end and skip rocks till
My pockets were empty. My heart felt
Thin as paper.

S. Liam Spradlin writes poetry and fiction. He has recently begun to write poetry that extends to more than just a hobby. He has been published in many small journals such as The Sequoya Reviews, The Scarlet Leaf Review, Thesongis, IVJ, Tuck, Degenerate Voices, Dissident Voice, and others. His works have also appeared in other anthologies. Read other articles by S. Liam.