Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2022
this is the house that held my love
growing in the middle
adapting to our needs
it sits in a whisper
and tries as it might
not to get in the way of us

my hands were full of berries
scorched by the newborn air
and for a brief moment I hung by
indeterminate
waving about, however gracefully
while you spoke again
to a lovely rabbit
who may be wild
did you see how I smiled to reassure you?
Susan Adele Wiggins
Written by
Susan Adele Wiggins  F/Los Angeles
(F/Los Angeles)   
102
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems