You and I are filled with purple
spilling over fingers with juicy stains.
Frame us in porcelain bowls and
the warm, folded crease of a t-shirt.
We tangle through the deep, wet soil,
clinging to riversides and forest edges.
Venture into the wild with me,
stretch out your limbs; come and see
The forgotten trails that house us,
keep us through the first blush of Spring,
Harvest's sweet pangs and lingering cold.
Rest your head against the curve of my shoulder
As we linger on, spreading our roots wider still,
like fingers interlacing; you and I.
No comments:
Post a Comment