Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2010
chaste spring lily loaded fingers
scything moted shafty sun tears
frail branches sifting precise phlorescent
sudden floral caving sound silence


of sleep powder crisp cheeks.
yawn billowing. oral sanctum.

when every arbor is neat little
straight rows onward ever spreading
into fading sight take my handinyourhand
and turn me to your guiding
descent body downward touching
peaceful forest day lover lacquered
PK Wakefield
Written by
PK Wakefield
Please log in to view and add comments on poems