SS (24 12 43 / woolwich london)

Usweet Of Honey

Catacombs of sweetness of your
finger lays the the rushing river
of your love.
Wine skin of your mouth to know
the smoothness taught of
belly grows
the leaking of a faucet never fixed.
Face in chest silenced lust to lay
aside my roaming days.
In fields of clover soft and sweet the
bees in it do make the
honey flow.

by James McLain

Comments (4)

A very wise and timely poem. We have only one world and we should all try to take care of our little part of it. Cheers for your brave soul.Sylvia. Excellent write. Warmest regards, Sandra
Lets all do our bit, come on folks re-cycle it! ! This is great Sis thanks Love duncan X
Ahh, yes, Sylvie, I remember when winters meant snow and summers were, indeed, long and hot. Nobody has sledges any more, do they? I'm reading this as the rain is bucketing down and the weeds have completely taken over my garden, just like in your poem. Nice one. Love, Fran xx
Can't argue with your sentiment.