I am quiet still
floating upon the waves
only minutes before
came crashing…
the night is ours
to do with what we will
but for now,
I am quiet still
in these little deaths
when amber resin drips
honey’d sweet
cocked hard
and anchored deep.
June 27, 2015 9:51 pm
A beautiful rendition of a nightime’s flushed successes.
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You are unique, Beth, and a true wonder. This is a wonderful poem.
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Thank you John…glad you like 🙂
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