Tuesday, 23 September 2014

imaginary him








The king of the household
Walks in steed
Tiptoeing into
The plates without
Lifes Lead
For home
Is laughter,
It is choice
The busy world
Brings in the noise
This gate he keeps
He guards it well
Removes the slumber
He oils the shell
For it is slick
And green with moss
We seek
The love
A time forgot
On supple skin
And pleading hands
And doors that lock
Where there's no slam
For at my bosom
He will rest
And all our kittens
Will grow on breast
This world for man
A triumphs storm
For I have loved
Far from
The norm
As I weave
His principled threads
The kiss of silk
A sun once fed
A tapestry
Our woven strands
our tongues enjoy
Our pancake plans


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