make me rhyme for you babe. 

come with me

on sweetened path

tween trunks of 

elm and birch,

in pure symphonic 


laid bare 

by guessing hands..

and gnawing lips 

and plaited hips

and everything that is,

spread now 

as fingers traipse 

through wood 

in glorious retreat-

to times before

when all hearts knew

and love 

meant little else,

come now into 

our waiting selves

seems once as ever


About lifeofawillow
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