beneath these pink lids
the branches stretch beyond the rain drops
tonight i will meet you
under the bough
the veil of blossoms shade your eyes
the curving and breaking
fingers run over textiles
touch is what we all miss
you graze my chin
before you turn and disappear
the blossoms quiver
tomorrow i will wake
inhale the stale bedroom air
and go about my day
1 comment:
yes. yes. yes.
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