persimmon press
Friday, November 19, 2010
the season's first snow
winter
like roughly drawn breath
has some great comfort to me,
(speaks of fired hearth, muted embers)
let us lay covered.
i kiss your skin
in dimming light
we glow as though lit
from beneath ourselves
(quiet)
such softness.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment