Latest Poem

Ladybugs

In July, we danced
so we would not
crush them.

They were everywhere:
on handbags and strollers,
signposts and mailboxes,
the hats of old men
and the benches the
old men sat on.

You scooped them
in thousands off
windowsills.

Your small white hand
full of speckled jewels.

This poem © Gabriel Gadfly. Published Feb 1, 2012

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