The Bridge


Your Hand








The Bridge

Down pine-scented paths of finding,

Down the trail of adolescence

Down on cheeks of new pubescence;

To the bridge.

Smooth pine-slatted privacy,
Sandy stream-bed close below,
Racing perfume of your closeness.
Closer still my need to know.

Coyest cork of vilest vintner;
Sunlight dreaming on your dress,
Catching whispers of your breathing;
Paralysed in awkwardness.

Every sentence laced with meaning,
Every nuance magnified,
Every breath my senses tingling,
Every silence finds your eyes.

Stumbling back up paths of finding,
Virgin lips are fresh with you,
Heaven scented pillow dreaming,
Body shaking with your dew.





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