and she wept
the crooked tree had many arms
and they all
reached to hold the sky
I slept beneath her boughs
and dreamt of rain
when I awoke, your tears were on the pillow
the crooked tree had many arms
and they all
reached to hold the sky
I slept beneath her boughs
and dreamt of rain
when I awoke, your tears were on the pillow
March 13th, 2007 at 8:44 pm
Sigh. Your poetry is art, D’Jaevle. Dark, beautiful art.
March 14th, 2007 at 3:25 am
I agree with Nympho… You make words and thoughts an art form…
So how far away is a heartbeat D’Jaevle? Seems tantalizingly close to me.