spinning gold
needles in haystacks
prick fingers
I'm waiting
come wake me
come take me
stealing salt from
every ocean
bathe me moonlight
wake me sunrise
I'll do pennance
when the time's right
pearls in cloisters
it's a silent affair
eating apples
from unnatural branches
never the fairest
only the boldest
this overtakes me
please try to don't break me
I will find strawberries
in the winter
barefoot in my paper dress
I won't come back empty handed
back to spinning
tales
and falling from
branches
while searching for pearls
in the ocean blue sky
I won't come back empty handed
2 comments:
Your empty hands are full of more good things than a wheelbarrow full of gems. And I don't believe in penance.
i'd like to point out that this has allusions to a fairy tale. we're not all hard-asses after all, my fair one. you face will be next to mine so soon i can hardly stand it. james is probably right about your hands, i'll give it to him. but only if i can nuance it a bit by pointing out that your hands are full of life.
as are you.
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