Friday, February 29

We're all progressing backwards
Toward these simple truths;
The ones which we've forgotten
In the wounds of youth.

And to have you here, my dear, my dear
Shall break all that binds us-
And find us in a missile's sin,
One day's redemptive violence.

Lodged in deep,
A finger's touch can surgically mend.
A strengthened soul, a taughtened heart
Can with more vigor bend.

And to renew, the dew, the dew
On shivering leaf depends;
You have my waist,
Bicep embraced,
And in the breeze I'm cleansed.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

sometimes we can't always find the's often so clear that it's naked to the eye- just bits of cutting glass.