This trip has no reason or rhyme,
Not enough to warrant the time
That I spend away from you, dear.
All paths I travel feel wonderful and unclear.
I love to find myself in you.
In your art my tears - paper blue.
Poetry, passion - fiery red.
In a lower place - where you wait to be fed.
Walk slow, my mind is a minefield,
Full of thoughts of what we might yield.
Pace ourselves, don't scrape any knees,
Ignore what blowing up does to you and me.
Don't mind, tread light like a feather,
We won't float apart, thank love's tether.
Fall too fast and set a mine off,
I'll land on the roof, you in a nearby trough.
Rain will come and to you I'll float,
A passing leaf will be our boat,
And on this boat, refuge, we'll seek,
From a moment in time when we were both weak.
Hope our walk is as soft as sex,
Exactly as rough (nix the hex) .
Come with me! See how strong we are!
Trust me, my Dove, I bet that we will go far!
(July 2010)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem