My head rests
On your ocean-deep breast
Stir up not
Your hands on mine
Knit a world woolen
return to this homeland
Oh wanderer!
When seeds garnered.
The guitar mewls silent
Cords left incorrupt
Music curl up on your lips
Let it have a voice
As our lips cloak.
___________________________________________________________________ (p.b)
Let it have a voice
ReplyDeletefantastic!