i am.
i am shouting!
i am shouting exaltations of love!
i am dreaming of holding you tangled in arms draped against skin eyes alight kissing you sigh that beautiful sigh of warmth content as you rest your head against my chest I feel the warmth your breath instills heart with fire and water, love and lust, everything and EVERYTHING!
i am shouting exaltations of love!
i am shouting.
i am
Yours.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Time passing; or the oak tree
There,
there is a quite earnestness about
the oak tree
that has set itself apart.
It’s,
it’s as if over the course of watching
its caretakers come,
and go,
The roots, branches,
and wizened trunk have
withdrawn,
fearful perhaps, of another autumn,
another quiet
passing of seasons.
A whisper passes,
(through leaves, through branches).
A yearning, wistful call,
or perhaps simply
an acknowledgement.
That seasons, as do all things,
turn.
A leaf,
edges curled,
tattered,
drifts slowly,
endlessly,
the oak stands silent,
watching.
alone.
there is a quite earnestness about
the oak tree
that has set itself apart.
It’s,
it’s as if over the course of watching
its caretakers come,
and go,
The roots, branches,
and wizened trunk have
withdrawn,
fearful perhaps, of another autumn,
another quiet
passing of seasons.
A whisper passes,
(through leaves, through branches).
A yearning, wistful call,
or perhaps simply
an acknowledgement.
That seasons, as do all things,
turn.
A leaf,
edges curled,
tattered,
drifts slowly,
endlessly,
the oak stands silent,
watching.
alone.
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