Poetry
Thursday, May 15, 2008
BOUNTY
Firm ripe red globes of pebbled flesh
Hanging hidden beneath and between
Toothed leaves
In dank dirt
On shadow washed banks
That with a feather light fingertip touch fall
Weightless into my palm
The taste of sweet perfume
No comments:
Post a Comment
‹
›
Home
View web version
No comments:
Post a Comment