Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 6
I painted your Myth onto
A cave wall

Until she atrophied

I scribbled our story
With a stick in White sand

And then the Tide.

So long gone,
I see in Dream
Your Face in
Moon Cold night

Your heat on soles

The Harvest of your Hips
With another.
Written by
Mike Adam  65/M/London England
(65/M/London England)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems