Saturday, June 4, 2011

Random notes

I gave you
The subtle souvenir
Of my hand
When we walked
The last autumn’s golden field
You withdrew
at my brazen ways

The winter afternoon
Buried amongst fog
You walked with me
In the bare field
You lifted
My phanek
My breast woke in surprise
Strained against my shirt
Yet my hand
Remembers your autumn rebuttal

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