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Wip-stitching is hard!
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Me, Yours
Senses heightening, your fingers erase
Everything; every wrinkle, open, raw;
Slip you in like soft velvet, welcoming: warm to you
I ..
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Older work.
|
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On Loners
freedom doesn’t come
to those who
trim their wings;
long feathers don’t come
to those who
do not wish to fly.
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foolish
landing, the crow danced,
blissfully,
until the frog in his beak
jumped out.
Surprise!
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You know they're in there, waiting...waiting... ; )
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I hope he kisses me...
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To dream....
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To Nora! Thanks for everything, my Friend.
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We miss you, Mister Barrie.
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