Come (Back) To Bed
Sloe-eyed gaze seeks, lips pillow soft await your kiss. Amidst tossed blankets and rumpled sheets, day begins new. Come back love. Lay with me.
Category: Poetry and Noetry
Tempest
Shuddering limbs moan under pelting sting of whip wind demand; needle rain rhythm and whitecap crash cymbal(ize) Wet. Ride my storm.
Shrouded Dawn
Woodsmoke-soaked fog lays over fields flooded; swimming Trumpeters frolic against a backdrop of trees shivering. Welcome, Winter. . Image courtesy of Dokurtybitz
Hot Ashes For Trees
Gilmour says he’s moved on; so too should we. So appropriate the name of David, I think. Love is a Goliath, and I am a stone’s throw away, watching,