Saturday, March 19, 2011

Words On the Playground

March 7th, 2011

My heart in the grass

Your eyes in the grape juice

My love let to pass.

Exposed to soft knives

Of kindest malaise

By the swings I sit and you

Stand without walking away.

Without turning your face

Lips deliver white flowers

To my feelings

To morn and to stay,

But not to embrace,

With a slide sending hope

For buds another day,

On a tree less attractive

Fruit offered that do

Little to keep

Temptation from bloom.

Let run was the truth

And then might it rust

Bolted in place,

A ladder, with dust.

The old heights forsaken

For clean bars to climb

Metal left squeaking

Disregarded in time.

Will my heart keep playing

In fields never plowed?

Will I have found love

Someday to abound?

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