Wrapped in reflective pleochroic
white paper with etched horse heads.
Stone bridge covered in the
center by the black soot of
thousands of trains.
Over ripened watermelon
heated in the mid-day sun
until it bursts open its viscus
red innards.
Footsteps into a lonely forest
path as dusk darkens the
shadows of twisted branches.
and you.
John Kipling Lewis
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/white-paper-3/
