Saturday, July 16, 2011 by B.H.



If she is –– to weave a cambric dream
On the side of a stream – in the meadow green
With no crinkles –– nor any needlecraft
Tracing a stark pattern of my felicitous grimace
And so that lady is forever mine.

If she is –– to glean in a sack of linen
The battalions of rippling scarlet harvests
And – to stir that all in the heather mixture
For me alone – on the leaf-crested ground
And so that lady is forever mine.

If she is –– to show me a purified town
Inside the piquant water or the sea chain
Washed grounds – by her so many tears
And dispersed nuggets that shed off her eyes
And so that lady is forever mine.




- B. Etch.

1 comments:

Mia said...

Hey what say to contributing to an e-magazine? We’re looking for writers of fiction, creative nonfiction and poetry. Drop me a line at realityromanticized@hotmail.com if you’re interested.
Thanks =)

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