My Country
‘Tis of thy Skies
She sings:
Fly light skying clouds
Gilt edged -
Strewn wild -
High
Evening’s stillness
Morning’s due
Late
Summer’s
Cast petal hues on
Quiet whites
In endless array
As we tumble by.
In my mind’s eye
I love her -
(‘Tis of her
thighs,
hips,
eyes,
lips,
I sing - all gentle
pulls and folds
caressing arms
upon a sea of cuddles)
I see our vanishing clouds now beautiful.
I feel the song of her beating heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem