She slipped behind
the shadows, borne
On a sighing wind;

Which cut the rippled
air, the skin
Of a thousand breaths;

A grove of lilies
impossibly curled
On old stone walls;

And she knew the truce
the old agreement
Etched into
the Perhaps
of the Maybe…

Then she reappeared above
my old rocky ledge
To grin down at me with razor eyes;

pausing in flight…

February ’05


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This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x

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All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

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