Their Flight South - Poem by Eric Cockrell
the tree bent by summer's storms,
prepares to shed her leaves.
and all signs of life,
leave branch and nook,
as beauty is revealed.
the weathered branch
stirred by the wind,
scratches against my chest.
sunlight weeps while shadows play,
and the sap drips with want.
the tongue of desire
wrapped around the balls of longing,
the dialogue of touching begins!
and winter's snows wait in perfect awe,
as the birds begin their flight south!
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You