Saturday, December 31, 2011

France

You are swollen to me
With lemongrass eyes and milk silk skin
Lips of pomegranate seed
And textured apple rind

You have purpose and mission
Leaving Beaujolais fulfilled
Through emerald fields of Fontibleau
Carrying a wine bladder

Suspending layers of motivation
I haven’t thought to taste your seal
Yet you clench me, like a shell
Calloused shut squeezing a pitted core

Pallid eyes down, you came to me in a dream
Whispering once, Today is the first day;
I can remember everything you made me believe
But I have forgotten your name.

{Written by: Andrea Currie)

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