Your poem turns my heart to puddle,my eyes to ponds,
and my soul to hugs of essence
beyond flesh and blood.
I want to feel the beat in your hands
and see the glimmer in your eye;
to know your posture before child
and the love you give for little feet that try.
I want to know your effort
and your sigh,
to feel your sweat
when we are high.
Your mind intrigues me, I cannot deny;
your spirit relieves me, of stress like cry.
See what you conjure, these words I do type;
I would say some more, but it would seem like hype.
4 comments:
Damn, this is good! I need to step up my work...
Bel, you can flatter me anytime, anywhere, anyway. :-D
Inspiration, touch, influence, greatest of gifts given, received. Shared. The first four lines are especially beautiful (really, really love those first four lines!) and I have to say that it was incredibly touching to know that you were in the position, puddled, ponded, as those who settle a while on the benches of DT so often are. :-)
To be puddled and ponded is a very nice thing. :-D
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