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sgholterPoems
I love my life. All of it. Every time the sun warms or Burns; the rain soothes, or Stings with angry ice; barrel-hot Buckshot, I Thank. Thank for the Weather. I love my life. All of it. It's an art. All of it. Every time the axe rests above Your neck mid-air, Wink at the masked one Holding the handle. Thank. Thank for the Swift awakening Awaiting. Add years to your dreaming. It's an art. All of it. I love you, poet. All that is you. You hold an opposing answer In each hand, commanding The chooser to hold Your gaze and keep Asking. The best readings rest between Every line drawn. I love you, poet. It's an art. All that Is you. **** well All of it. Sleep safe. Add years to your Dreaming.
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Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
I Love you, Poet. It's an Art
I love my life. All of it. Every time the sun warms or Burns; the rain soothes, or Stings with angry ice; barrel-hot Buckshot, I Thank. Thank for the Weather. I love my life. All of it. It's an art. All of it. Every time the axe rests above Your neck mid-air, Wink at the masked one Holding the handle. Thank. Thank for the Swift awakening Awaiting. Add years to your dreaming. It's an art. All of it. I love you, poet. All that is you. You hold an opposing answer In each hand, commanding The chooser to hold Your gaze and keep Asking. The best readings rest between Every line drawn. I love you, poet. It's an art. All that Is you. **** well All of it. Sleep safe. Add years to your Dreaming.
sgholter
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sgholter
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
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