love poems (Remove filter)
Preen
The room brimmed
with her pale heat
lapping through my winter.
Dare I touch this dance
and stuff my pockets full of hope?
Parcel my fears
in wax paper and twine
and wait for them to unravel.
Pic - Cormorant Drying Wings. by Geoffrey Bickley. Sculpture: wood
Friday 17th January 2014 1:41 am
Recent Comments
R A Porter on Bungalow Dreaming
1 hour ago
Tom Doolan on Bungalow Dreaming
1 hour ago
Bethany Sallis on Final visit? ( fictional )
3 hours ago
John Coopey on Bungalow Dreaming
3 hours ago
John Coopey on Final visit? ( fictional )
3 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Tom Doolan
3 hours ago
R A Porter on Bungalow Dreaming
4 hours ago
Greg Freeman on Bungalow Dreaming
4 hours ago
prakhar dhama on Should This Night End?
4 hours ago
prakhar dhama on You
5 hours ago