Plumage


Your finger is a feather of unbound desire
Burning forever the weather frozen ground on fire
Heavens are wheeling hearts someone faraway
So to say
With a touch you leave on the softest light
Like one who was blind may have hoped you might
Today
Tonight.



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 617 times
Written on 2017-09-02 at 15:34

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