your whispering look of refined depth
is etched in the oceanglass
i wear as a necklace about my mind,
it rests on a pendulum of patience
i clearly acknowledge
i'll most likely gnaw the cuffs of eternity
awaiting yer nod to dance
slowly along to no music save the swish of oak& pine
whose roots imitate the strands of hair
in that they hold my soil
from boiling to dust in the aftermath
of betrayal, in the deserts of love's long
dry cry
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment