Miles high
his obsidian body
hovers -
on spindly stilts.
Tripping across
the loose
cork
boards
inches before
my
speckled nose.
His soft legs
tickle my freckles;
perhaps he
thinks they're
food.
Author notes
Prompt:
The title 
In a list
A contest entry
- quickie. by dieu..
400 points, ended August 10, 5 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Help :)
Comments
-
I think the previouse readers may have taken this
an itsy bitsy to serious...
it is a fun piece...
a fleeting poetic thought....
perfect background lass.
I enjoyed the observation.
Bless your heart
little gypsy,
Liam
-
This is a good piece, line 14 should be tickle and your use of their in the second last line should be they're but a nice piece all the same
-
Close but not quite there yet
Is line 14 supposed to be 'tickle'? I think it's very good. The only area that I would recommend more work on is the ending. You have a great strong beginning but the end lacks in luster. A little more work and it'll be top notch.
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