I don't know what to title this yet.
untitled
On a stone,she sits stoically.
The Hollyhocks host the cattleya
that shelter the stone bench.
Her secrets scent the solitude.
The tears are finally quenched.
Emptied wounds fade her sorrows
into a sea of virile visions.
His soulful hands touch and soothe
yesterday, today and tomorrow.
Her wrinkled love
will always find
harbour in his hug
and the softness of his lips.
His sun will always dry her rain.
Poetry by melanie sue
Read 769 times
Editors' choice
Written on 2011-06-06 at 23:58
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