Salt. Salt dosed with a hint of peach and hickory
or a cool wind just after Twilight.
A woman lost, spoke from the side street: "What of faith
(even those tagged on the walls of alleys or along abandoned houses)
when the hold of softened hands
are drawn apart as they inevitably are?“
Respond:
But what of the guarded lust of parted lovers
Or the peace of a Sunday waking?
the whispers of things as they tremble by
are the quintessential sip
that faith could only envy.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC
Salt. Salt dosed with a hint of peach and hickory
or a cool wind just after Twilight.
A woman lost, spoke from the side street: "What of faith
(even those tagged on the walls of alleys or along abandoned houses)
when the hold of softened hands
are drawn apart as they inevitably are?“
Respond:
But what of the guarded lust of parted lovers
Or the peace of a Sunday waking?
the whispers of things as they tremble by
are the quintessential sip
that faith could only envy.
Still drafting but constructive criticism encouraged.
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