fuschia

as drops
of
blood
the fuschia
hang
and gently
fall
to ground
upon our
heads as
if for
dead
we lie
and
seek
the sound
of curlews
cry across
the bay
as waves
do gently
break
and
say to
each
the words
of love
and lust
of care
and trust
to thread
our lives
this day




Poetry by Peter Humphreys The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 575 times
Written on 2007-02-16 at 15:19

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