loop d’état

shake shake my leaves down

through whispering pines

down sultry soft meadows

of grace

lining lost fields with sweet

thorns of delight

a softly torn whisper

of lace

edging around each false door

on each face

a faintly facade of the true

with sharp spear in each hand

and a chain round my heart

i stumble in threads

back to you.

 

 

About lifeofawillow

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