Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 1
We angled ourselves to face Lyra-
I turned repeatedly to him.
Hid in a blanket-cocoon we
beat a rhythm of fingertip-dreams.

We angled ourselves to face Lyra-
I turned repeatedly to him.
He rained prayers and promises;
a sky-full of stars fell down unseen.

We angled ourselves to face Lyra-
I turned one last time to him.
Pinned dead-butterfly colours
to his mouth, his tongue, his skin.
ju
Written by
ju  F/England
(F/England)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems