Your Hands:
Coaxing stories from clouds and rocks
And other things.
Tales gliding along the contours
Of a barely wavering joy.
.
If I could pilfer your burdens,
And somehow build trees:
Respite from the sudden monopolies of Spring.
Your Hands:
Coaxing stories from clouds and rocks
And other things.
Tales gliding along the contours
Of a barely wavering joy.
.
If I could pilfer your burdens,
And somehow build trees:
Respite from the sudden monopolies of Spring.