Monday, December 26, 2011



Oh, soft cradled bosom
Nature's secret womb
So fresh and cool
Among the golden maze
Beneath blue velvet eyes
And misty dew, she lies
Quenching her thirst
From morning rays
Escaping beyond
Harsh worlds of gray
Exploring the web
Of tangled dreams
Caressing the flute
Of sparrow's song
Shaping some hope
Within the seams
Peering through
Tender, naked toes
Seeking to soothe
What wrings her soul.

(c) 2011  Lora Mitchell

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