in you,
the high fields,
the brush
and tangle of thorns,
thickets and vines.
the old trees bending
about to fall
in the next wind.
i see the rain, the storms
in you. the dark
clouds above
as you brood.
i'm afraid of going further.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
i'm attached to the last line, though....
Post a Comment