If I come to you I will be unriddled,
singing and shot through with
poetry. My gift will be the rings
around my soul, the songbirds
and the winds of Jupiter, warm
touched my arms and the
long wait of my legs.
If you come to me be it on
a Monday when you are
at your best and relaxed.
Bring me the scent of musk,
the water gobleted in crystal
for my waiting lips.
We will clasp the future as if
it was Young. The breeze
on our faces
blows over
the carved vows
on the birchwood
tree.
Caroline Shank
April 2, 2023
Apr 2, 2023
Apr 2, 2023 at 11:16 PM UTC
If I come to you I will be unriddled,
singing and shot through with
poetry. My gift will be the rings
around my soul, the songbirds
and the winds of Jupiter, warm
touched my arms and the
long wait of my legs.
If you come to me be it on
a Monday when you are
at your best and relaxed.
Bring me the scent of musk,
the water gobleted in crystal
for my waiting lips.
We will clasp the future as if
it was Young. The breeze
on our faces
blows over
the carved vows
on the birchwood
tree.
Caroline Shank
April 2, 2023
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