Your body is electric
Your body is electric
with laughter and mischief.
Your limbs are frisk and risk,
each nerve a thread of bliss.
Mine is reluctant and stiff.
It does not dance when others do.
Mope and slouch. Balk and ache.
Your body is a garden
bearing fruit and flower,
leaf and life, in madcap abundance.
Mine: urban wasteland,
disused warehouse, lot overrun
with weeds and needles,
spent cigarettes decades old.
Still, there is conversation,
even communion,
between us.
You hold my hand,
and all the dust in me
remembers April.
Poetry by Uncle Meridian
Read 186 times
Written on 2024-02-11 at 05:05
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