Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2016
She was the fruit perched high up on the tree
And the lather of a thorn which cut deep
Now again I rise from a very ashen dream
With a hide much softer than before
In love I fall at the whim of likeness
And out of it I walk at the loss of identity
Sive Myeki
Written by
Sive Myeki  South Africa
(South Africa)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems