Christopher Elwell

Woken with a kiss

I am naked sleep

Amongst gently swaying winter trees.

The spirit of the wood

Like a kindly chaperone

Beckons them to draw near. 

Unable to stir my roots

I watch as their bodies

Bend and arch 

Towards each other

And when they touch

It is with the kiss

My soul has yearned for.

Then as if spring has come for you

My heart and mouth burst open

Shouting something

Frightening and absurd

And this is how I wake.

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