5 half moons rising.
5 cute cuticles.
5 tributaries of touch
flow from the cliff
of a white white cuff
little black hairs
scurrying away from it
the glint of a ring
catching...capturing..the light
a scar
still visible
from a never to be
forgotten childhood memory
ten tiny freckles
scattered
ad hoc
amongst
the climbing
vines of veins.
See? I know you!
...like the back of my hand!
I got yer number...writen on the back of my hand! I got yer number...writen on the back of my hand! I got yer number...writen on the back of my hand! Remember the JAGS(I think it was) with this little number from...oh years ago. I love your 'five tributarties of touch! ' And that cliff cuff thingy...the way you see things is just so surprising and awe-inspiring! Love it to bits! Bitten my nails down to the quick reading it...how quick you are...you clever clever boy! Clever! Clever! love Dee Dee
Oh you clever clogs...even this has got the wit to woo! Fantastic concept and wrings a bit of life out of the same old hackneyed phrase. I love 'the white cliff of a cuff! ' and fingers becoming '5 tributaries of touch! ' love GinaXXX
LOL. Love the 'scurrying away' hairs. Not bitten your finger nails, Donall? F
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
And I know you...like the inside of the box that I broke out of...when you asked, 'Where is the Linny who used to be? ' Thanks for this winner, Mr. D., and welcome home!