in my hands
at depth, you know searching, in a night
the language you speak, in times of us
loving, the naked words clinging, telling
truth in a bed, outside towns, made up of
days we missed, snow falling untitled
so I keep moments engraved in my hands
Poetry by kath
Read 560 times
Written on 2008-04-14 at 08:34
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
M Heathcote |
Rob Graber |
Kathy Lockhart |