Saturday, 19 November 2022

poem 193

 


Now strip, that well constructed mask 

Cooley, I stair into your naked eyes of fire


Below bathed in my tender thoughts

While time passed me an notebook & pen 


A cry rises, before the dusk is made

For a women, witness a sea becoming dry 


I touched your tear and upon my finger tip

It embraces me, then unfolds the void 


As bright as the sun, you radiate all

Desserts bloom, on deed as sorrow falls 


A miracle found, simple upon your touch 

Naked, this seed cried “tomorrow once more”

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