In the froth of life

It's here a dandelion clock
Is nodding in the froth of life,
It's here...
A meadow overwhelms us:

And all our early seven-senses
It's here a yellow rose is growing
Its first buds amongst an iron fist.

It's here our ankles weigh heavy,
Trembling like two ship anchors,
Docked in a harbor;
Leaving, two ports of call with a siren kiss.




Poetry by M Heathcote
Read 1087 times
Written on 2012-12-13 at 15:10

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text



Very striking images here, M.
Applause!
2012-12-13


Nathalia
Lovely.
2012-12-13