Love at the lips was touch As sweet as I could bear, And once that seemed too much, I lived on air That crossed me from sweet things, The flow of - was it musk From hidden grapevine springs Down hill at dusk. I had the swirl and ache From sprays of honeysuckle That when theyre gathered shake Dew on the knuckle. I craved strong sweets, but those Seemed strong when I was young, The petal of the rose It was that stung. Now no joy but lacks salt That is not dashed with pain And weariness and fault, I crave the stain Of tears, the aftermark Of almost too much love, The sweet of bitter bark And burning clove. When stiff and sore and scarred I take away ma hand From leaning on it hard In grass and sand, The hurt is not enough, I long for weight and strength To feel the earth as rough To all ma length.
Posted on: Thu, 23 Oct 2014 09:10:51 +0000
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