If my body were a temple,
You would be the God
To whom it was devoted.
But temples can be demolished,
Invaders can desecrate the shrine;
It can be ravaged by fire, torn down,
Or weathered and broken by time.
I think instead, my body is a forest,
When destroyed, burnt or broken
It will flourish once more.
And you would be the wild Horned God
Who lingering, presides there;
Under shady boughs of rhododendrons
With hawthorn leaves within your hair.
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Author:
SerenWise (
Offline) - Published: May 7th, 2019 01:28
- Category: Love
- Views: 18
- User favorite of this poem: Sunshinefalling.
Offline)
Comments3
and who could not resist clandestine visits to such a special place..... I prefer forests too.... and also have a thing about hawthorn..... Neville
An enjoyable Piece Giving different thought processes throughout. Ah the Hawthorn I hope not the wild sort it rips you to shreds. Thank you
Forests are so special, they will always be with us as your words will be.
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