deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Sun
My heart
Settles like the still cold burn
Wrapping each blade of grass
With its pure, white earth
I sit still with the stones to await
The warmth of your sun
How sweet, you feel
Upon my skin
Inside myself
I beckon the sun
And the cold you bring
The ice, binding
Tempting me to stay
To become one.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 198
Commenting Preference:
The author is looking for friendly feedback.