|
enduring
|
|
I
stood in your garden today.
My heart is a bud-clasped leaf to press to your lips. Soft, articulate. |
|
The
herbs whispered of your touch.
These bricks knew you. Dew beads them now soft, articulate. |
|
I
stood in your garden
|
|
thinking |
|
stripped
|
|
grounded
|
|
changed
|
|
enduring.
|
|
return to pomegraphics
|