The oaks were
as naked as your hands
as you tugged at the branches
heavy and bowed with ice.
We crawled beneath the arc
and marveled at our palace
of childhood diamonds.
Your hands were cold
but your mouth was warm
as we invented as kiss
to remember every future December,
encased in snow and ice.
A contest entry
- overnight: oak by Melissa Gayle.
300 points, ended March 7, 2007, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
A handmade hiding spot with the help of mother nature. This is wonderful in its innocence and full in its emotion. Very nicely done.
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my hands are always cold
i love this though -
oh my--
you, cor and i all in a contest together? i think that's the first time that's happened in years! haha, best of luck my darlin'.
j
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