song of seasons

Hold me in  fleeting hours

when we are beautiful and wild

when our lips drip with honey and

and our flesh is full and ripe.

Stay  when summer departs and

our garden sips at laughter in the

iris of your  eyes.

Lie with me in winter when the

birds hold their song,

skeletons of brittle bone,

indifferent to the cold.

For you my lips are   petals

that open sweet  adventure

in the silhouette of  forests.

If  you do not return

but fly on to gardens far,

my body will seek shelter

beneath the feathers

of tongueless birds.

 

Mark Lovett “Woman Waiting”

Image result for paintings of woman waiting in a garden for her lover
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60 thoughts on “song of seasons

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