The whisk of summer on succulent skin
The taste of winter on frosty fresco breath
Until there's not a moment left
Until the look of resurrection leaves her eyes
But not the hop, leap and recoil of elastic
Rather the first swallows and lilacs,
Of our marching dandelion parade
And the tender vernal oscillations,
Of you.
9 comments:
This builds my anticipation of spring, and those oscillations. Lovely images and sounds.
i dig
@ Francis: Thanks again :). Imbolc has passed, Spring is on its way!
@ aaron: :)
I can see a connection between your recent writing and Lawrence, even though you have your own style.
I really like the expression "leap and recoil of elastic". Nice rythm.
Hey there Jenny; as you know I love Lawrence, so thank you :)!
And this poem is actually a repost from May last year...
True matriarchal feel.:)
Unlikely, this topic. Just my taste.:)
Pleased to meet you Limpidus, and thank you :)
"the tender vernal oscillations"
beautiful
Thank you Megan (:
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