When bosom is spent

7 June 2020

 

Wild flowers

Slender fingertips

Atonement

Peering through

The face like a daisy’s gait

Nimble and humble

 

Meadows strewn

Pathways scintillate

Meanings sink

Into heart

The soul a wolf singing low

Songs of never more

 

Breathe me in

I am canticles

Chiming through

Desert rain

I am remainder of pain

When bosom is spent

 

Reading of the poem:

Stive Morgan – Ice And Fire