Pucker up
we are all lips
all flames
all the red head
all the russet sisters
we throw our blood
vessels open to the light
stalk the night
mimic the sun
and shy at the moon
don’t ask if the red light’s
on in the darkenss
because then we are closed
worn thin from the kissing wind
worn pale by the day’s face
all our hearty selves
dried out and downwards
going grey from
the passages of time.
a collection of flowers coming up?
ReplyDeleteactually it would be great to do a big anthology of flower poems in fact!
I just took a pile of flower photos....so maybe...
Deletebeautiful...!
ReplyDelete