Author: Don McWilliams

Because people fade like polaroids  left in the sun and  it has been years since I last  wondered whether God exists,  because when I am walking  these city streets the same  song just won’t stop and  everything looks faintly gray,  that you, constant, all colors  and new music are never  far away and never tired…

A sultan would hold the stone to the sun,  eight carats at least,  perfect  light playing in his eyes.  He would set the stone  in a pendant.  His hands would tremble  as he brushed aside your hair  and fastened the clasp  at the back of your neck.  I stand waiting  for the light to change, …