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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=460242" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>That bit of pinky stuff on the carpet</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=460242" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">What is it doing on the clean carpet, <br>that bit of pink something? </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=460242" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Not a curse upon the house-proud<br>nor a criticising comment on the housekeeper, <br>or retribution for the gap under the front door, <br>or – it it’s blown in from the garden –<br>a hint of early autumn threatening poetic sadness<br>or a reminder of the fragile evanescence of all things</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=460242" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">it is a whisper from God<br>which has eluded the debris whirling between stars, <br>the heat of the sun, its solar dust, <br>the icy-cold of atmospheres, <br>airless space of ether, <br>antennae of early-warning systems, <br>hover of spy-planes, <br>click and silent breath of listening devices, <br>tick tick tick of incriminating tapes recording, <br>unforgiving eye of spy cameras, <br>the chatter of minds forever elsewhere, </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=460242" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">it is a petal shed from the geranium outside the door, <br>of the most delicate, almost transparent<br>pink no rose no shell no just itself<br>of a fine fine substance which no man can yet make<br>on its long, long pilgrimage<br>from beyond the whole vast cosmos of <br>innumerable solar systems, beyond where<br>space bends upon itself in homage<br>where the mind of God dwells</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=460242" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">to find itself again in my suddenly open heart<br>as if it had never travelled from or to, <br>this whisper of pinky-rosy-shell-like stuff<br>on the carpet by the warm bare foot.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</a></strong></div>

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