http://www.flickr.com/photos/rebelwithafrog/5211040376/
Take me to the place in the sky
where hands are held.
Take me to your bones.
Feed me your gravy - the marrow
of your mind keeps me alive.
Take me to your attic of broken furniture
holding memories of spent Sundays and
the beauty of wood. I am your glue.
I am the cobwebs on your longing.
It’s my toes, they told me so.
They’re waiting for you at the door
with open arms.
They see you
as the footsie queen.
Take me to the place in the sky
where feet run free.
Take me to the blue in your eyes.
I am your pupil.
Feed me your seasons, I will taste
your ever changing moods.
I will learn your recipe.
Take me to your pic-nic.
Your red and white checkered sunshine wicker grass basket
and I will take you to my shady tree.
I am this fresh new day
and you are breathing.
Author’s Note:
folding away my forgotten journal in a desk drawer, that is darkness. i took out an old journal from the 90's to see what I was doing around this time of year. i was thinking about love, thinking about everything meaning nothing and nothing else matters, thinking that my future spouse is out there walking around somewhere. thinking that we've yet to meet. those were my thoughts.
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