by Unknown
Aug 2009 345 Views 0 comments
Maternal
On your cherished hills.
I lay my head.
The cool breeze
blows down along the valley.
The orchards little apples,
slung from the branch.
Liquer wine from the mellow vines.
The opulent flower blossoms,
Rose red,
Through passage of womb,
Springs forth to sanguine lips
I lay my head.
The cool breeze
blows down along the valley.
The orchards little apples,
slung from the branch.
Liquer wine from the mellow vines.
The opulent flower blossoms,
Rose red,
Through passage of womb,
Springs forth to sanguine lips
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2009
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