We made love without moving
(within the moon, within the Sun)
Limbs twisted bitter root lavender
Sinking fingers of thought into
So blue was the night sky
Each and every cry
Flickering uttering tongue kissed
Violet fencing, silk screen embraced
Ever following, touch retraced
Our steps;

Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 174 times
Written on 2018-03-03 at 15:37

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