Psychoanalyse Poem by James McLain

Psychoanalyse some use Of Words;
You choose too find spread through out.
Rose clingy and each new bud plays with Lily.
Moss or green beards, soft hands, rolling stones.
As valley's or glades each May can conceive one mind.
And trees I knew grew very deep and lived within each forest.
Fields newly plowed, each will show how the true depth,
of your love and the wheat that you grew your bread
lays on top of the table you built of brown wood.