Tuesday, March 22, 2011


Love is a seedling
in the richest of black soil.
It reaches for the sun,
green and snappy.

It's gentle roots,
young and fresh,
grip the earth with
an intention for life.

they're so tiny, so fragile.
like you eyelashes brushing my cheek
as your lips rest on my neck
and we dream deeply
in the night.
By eyelashes. Lips. Love.

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