golden ripples slowly sway <br />toward my feet <br />where awaiting bubbles burst <br />like humming angels <br />calling to the setting sun with <br />each gentle pop <br />within a swooning mirror <br />framed by wild grass and reeds <br />a self-portrait of beauty <br />these graceful depths <br />of golden ripples <br />who slowly sway<br /><br />Wes Thompson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/written-at-sunset-while-sitting-on-a-sewer-pipe-to-paradise/
