095 Paul du Lac

As she lay sleeping in the early morning light I delicately parted her hair and watched the calm rise and fall of her chest, soft baby breaths pushing against the whole wide weight of heaven. Sheltering between walls of concrete hiding from the cold and fear of night the sun began to break and sunbeams filtered down illuminating dust and rubble, the terminus of someone elses long lost day. Piercing shafts of gold lanced in past broken walls super-charging teeming motes of dust, bright beams in the murk holding dancing angels in the light.


Words: Sam Mee, Published: 28 February 2016
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