Another poetry exercise. This one came quickly; I'm not sure how good it is, but I enjoyed writing it, and that's what counts to me. :3 (Roadkill provided me with my acrostic start, SQUASH, which I followed to autumn. heart I do that a lot in my poetry, it seems.)
Round Eight
how does the afternoon fade and yet
the sun deepens
we hold hands under the eaves of leaves
and summer winds lap the door and die
bring us close to your rooty bosom
seeping copper to singe the high cold sky
how does the afternoon fade and yet
the sun deepens and
in rich orange the earth
orgasms
gently
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How Disturbing.
It's a Gaia Journal. You know the drill. Stuff you don't care about, written by someone you don't know. :0
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Hedjrebl
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In my next life,
I want to be me,
and meet you again.