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suzanne-wilson-regaliaPoems
Surely your eyes smile like sunflowers in August dropping their seeds from skyscraper heights as you hang from your cross nailed together by your own rough-hewn hands dropping their seeds as the wind runs its fingers through the weeds windchiming like a platinum-plated Joni Mitchell and surely you touched mine surely surely surely and I wish like Christmas Eve                       like a first junior high dance                       like a death bed watch that I could afford even a bottle of you but the demand for you is high and the supply . . .          well, you know, there's never enough and you keep raising the price and surely surely surely                     you know, there's never enough so I lie here among the weeds seeking out your seeds some small, priceless part of you as you rise out of my reach                          like a house with a seaside view                          like a villa in Tuscany                          like gold which you are surely surely surely you are with your sunflower eyes and your Christmas Eve wishes you pay for my sins dropping your seeds and surely surely surely                      you know, there's never enough
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Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
I Wrote You A Poem While Listening to Jane Monheit Sing Joni Mitchell
Surely your eyes smile like sunflowers in August dropping their seeds from skyscraper heights as you hang from your cross nailed together by your own rough-hewn hands dropping their seeds as the wind runs its fingers through the weeds windchiming like a platinum-plated Joni Mitchell and surely you touched mine surely surely surely and I wish like Christmas Eve                       like a first junior high dance                       like a death bed watch that I could afford even a bottle of you but the demand for you is high and the supply . . .          well, you know, there's never enough and you keep raising the price and surely surely surely                     you know, there's never enough so I lie here among the weeds seeking out your seeds some small, priceless part of you as you rise out of my reach                          like a house with a seaside view                          like a villa in Tuscany                          like gold which you are surely surely surely you are with your sunflower eyes and your Christmas Eve wishes you pay for my sins dropping your seeds and surely surely surely                      you know, there's never enough
- From Picture of Yourself
Written by
suzanne-wilson-regalia
American
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
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