With You Poem by Laura Guthrie

Hum in time forever,
I miss your fractious lobes.
To crumple, curse and cauliflower,
and burn the jackpot and the bower,
I fling my fingertips to shower
and scent around the rose.

The ripple on the lampshade,
the sense and saphit wild.
To roam the icy meatloaf hills,
where living wombats rein the thrills,
where peace and pulses crack the wills
and beckon to that child.

Duvets gently whisper,
snowflakes - chainsaws too.
Whatever maintenence is here
the softly swifting thorns are near,
but true as rain, I have no fear:
I'm in this cup
with you.