The leaning neck
of the moon, getting
intimate with
a tall pine.
Partheno-sculpting
a protégé, without touching
the essentials.
Somebody waits for your
footfalls. Somebody
loves you without telling.
Like sensory pits
of a viper. I smell
your heat.
The swaying hips
of downing night.
Sun was rising.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: September 7th, 2019 20:04
- Category: Nature
- Views: 7
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.