Words On the Playground

March 7^th, 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?